Of course, you moRON!
by gracelove
Summary: I suck at summaries. It's a Brock/Reba, just like my others, but totally different. Please R&R!
1. Just Not Working

Chapter One

Chapter One

"Mom, what happened?" Cheyenne asked. Her Mom had just come through the back door. Cheyenne knew she'd been talking to Brock. Now she was pale and shaking like a leaf.

"…Why didn't I say it…?" Reba whispered. "Why…why…?"

"Mom, what? Please, tell me what happened!" she begged.

Reba sat at the table. She was starting to control herself. "Cheyenne, it'll be all right. Your Dad and Barbara Jean are going to try marriage counseling, and that should work."

_Oh yeah, because Dad's great at the whole working out marriages thing,_ Cheyenne thought, but knew it was best not to say with her mother in this condition. Instead, she said, "Well, that's good, so why are you so…shaky?"

Reba was trying to figure that out. She didn't know why all of a sudden helping Brock stay in a relationship was hard on her – she'd helped them get through fights before. But this one had the weight of their whole marriage on it.

Brock had looked her straight in the eye and asked, "Reba…do you think I made a mistake?"

Her answer was yes. Her answer was a huge hug and begging him to take her back…

But the answer she gave was no. And it was a big, fat lie.

THREE WEEKS LATER

Reba was laying on her couch, trying to take her mind off of the bad day that she'd had. Kyra was mad at her for borrowing a CD, Jake had been grounded for getting an F for the quarter in his Biology class, Cheyenne, Van and Elizabeth and were on vacation so she had no adorable grandchild to cuddle, and Brock hadn't been by all day. It bugged her that when he wasn't around, but she wouldn't dare say that aloud.

But she shook thoughts of him out of her head. At least Barbara Jean hadn't come by. That was a good thing, it meant that something was wrong with her. She laughed an evil laugh, then broke off, disgusted with herself.

That means that something's wrong with Brock, too…Reba thought. "I NEED A LIFE!" she yelled.

Unfortunately, Brock and Barbara Jean entered just in time to hear this. They looked at each other, frowning, then at Reba.

"Oh, hi," Reba said, blushing.

"Since when do you need a life?" Brock asked.

"Gee, thanks. I guess I'm too busy taking care of other peoples problems to have time for my own life," Reba sighed, hoping they would get the message.

"Never mind that, we have a problem!" Barbara Jean said, waving her hands in the air.

"Why do I try dropping subtle hints?" Reba muttered. "What's the matter this time?"

"Kyra is angry at us for letting you borrow that CD." Brock sighed, sitting down.

"It's Paramore and she left it in Van's car – I gave in to temptation! And I didn't let anything happen to it," Reba moaned. "I gave it back to her!"

"Well she thinks you were snooping to see what kind of music she listens to," Brock explained.

"You don't have to snoop to hear what Kyra listens to. Just stand in your kitchen and you can hear everything."

"Tell me about it," Barbara Jean muttered. "But lately she's been mad at us because of everything."

"Maybe…" Reba began.

"What?"

"Nothing, forget I said anything."

"Reba, please, anything you have to say can help," Brock begged.

"Well…" she slowly sat up. "Maybe if you two weren't mad at each other she wouldn't be angry."

"We're not mad at each other!" Barbara Jean insisted.

"Then what was all the 'he said, she said' drama about yesterday? Every time I turned around one of you was standing behind me telling me it was someone else's fault."

"Was it really that bad, Reba? Say, what was that fight about, Barbara Jean?" Brock asked.

"Uh, I don't remember…a million other things were brought up after that one thing…but they were mostly from **before** that one thing…but I really don't remember what that one thing was-"

"You got mad at Brock because he was eating your diet food, then he made fun or your diet, then you told him to get on a diet, which made you think of being fat, which made you think of having a baby, which made you tell Brock to get is vasectomy reversed, which made him say no, which got you mad, which made him want to go play golf, which made you even more angry because you want to save for a pool, which he said no to, which made you angry. Meanwhile between arguments you were over here or calling me telling me everything which I sadly remember every part of."

Brock and Barbara Jean stared at Reba as she recited every detail of the day prior. Both were gaping.

"What – don't look at me like that, it's not my fault you tell me everything!" Reba snapped.

"How do you remember all that?" Brock continued to gape.

"Okay, can you two just stop giving me that look, it's really freaking me out. Now, I really think that if you two fought less than it would affect the way that Kyra was acting," Reba concluded.

"Well, what can we do? We've been going to a marriage counselor, we've talked to you! That usually helps everything!" Barbara Jean sighed, biting her bottom lip. "I mean, we're really trying, why isn't it working?"

Reba didn't like the direction this conversation was taking. It was becoming like one she and Brock had had right before they got a divorce.

She shook her head rapidly again, forgetting that she was with company.

"What was that?" Brock asked. "Got a fly on your head?"

"No, I had to get something off my mind," Reba muttered.

"Hey – maybe **we **should do that! Does it really work, Reba?" Barbara Jean asked, all ditsy – like.

"No."

"Darn it!" Barbara Jean lapsed into thought.

_Have either of you considered that you should just forget the little things? _Reba wanted to scream._ If I had this chance with you, Brock, I would take it in a heart beat. If someone had told me the way things would have been I would have begged you to stay when I had the chance…_

She was so frustrated that she hit a pillow. This time nobody seemed to notice that she acted strangely. But Brock did, and his heart sank.

_Now she's worried about us. Why do we mix her up in our marriage problems? It was hard enough for her when we split. Now she feels likes she has to keep us together…God if she knew how much I wish I'd stuck it out…but she wouldn't believe me, and if she did she'd just laugh…at least I'd hear her laugh oh MY GOD WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH ME?_

Now he shook his head to rid himself of these thoughts.

Barbara Jean noticed. "Brock, Reba said that doesn't work! Can't you just believe her?"

"I'm sorry I did it unconsciously!" Brock snapped. "Just like you snapping your stupid gum."

"Give me a little credit, Brock, that has actually been proven to relieve stress!"

"Who should I give credit to – you or that doctor who didn't have to go to college?"

"ENOUGH!" Reba yelled. "You're doing it again!"

"What?" Brock and Barbara Jean said in unison.

"FIGHTING! Great, now I'm getting a headache," Reba moaned, pressing her fingers to her temples.

"Sorry," Barbara Jean said sadly.

"Don't say sorry to me, apologize to each other!"

"Why – I didn't do anything!?" Barbara Jean defended.

"Uh-huh, you got mad at me!"

"Because you were being stupid!"

"THAT'S IT GET OUT." Reba ordered, pointing to the door.

"But –"

"If you guys are gonna argue it won't be here. Now see ya later!" Reba walked to the door and held it open.

Once she was alone again, she went to the kitchen. She really needed an iced tea – Barbara Jean could give her horrible headaches. Right now it seemed like her head was being pressed inward from all directions. She just wanted them to get over their problems…and whatever happened, anything that happened, Barbara Jean could not find out that Brock thought he made a mistake marrying her. The conflict swarming in her mind after that night still swarmed, never ceasing.

She loved Brock. She missed him. She wanted him there, to hold him whenever she wanted to. It was so unfair. But being the survivor she was, she knew that life wasn't fair.

At home, Brock and Barbara Jean hadn't spoken to each other since Reba had kicked them out. Brock was ashamed of it – the last thing he wanted was to make her upset again. But it seemed he was just too good at it to avoid it.

Barbara Jean, however, was having her own deep down epiphany. She knew one thing for sure: Brock and Reba were in love. She knew that they knew, and also that she was in the way. She had always been the person in the way, so it didn't particularly hit her self esteem. But she also knew that if it had not been for the little boy sleeping upstairs, Reba and Brock would be side by side, just like they wanted and needed.

Finally she broke the silence when both were sitting in the living room. "Brock?"

"Hmm?" he hummed.

"This isn't working, is it?" she sighed.

"No, it isn't," he agreed.

Silence.

"What are we gonna do?" Barbara Jean sighed. "That counselor can't make us love each other again."

"Nope. I guess there's just one last thing to do."

"I know…but Brock," she looked at him seriously. "We have to keep this to ourselves for now. We can't tell the kids."

"Of course."

"Or Reba."

Brock blinked. Keep something like this from Reba? What was she thinking? How could he even try when all he wanted to do was let her know that he still loved her…now that he could?

"Barbara Jean, how can we keep something like this from her? She has to know what's going on!" Brock begged.

"Leave your feelings for Reba for after the divorce," she smiled slightly. She got up before Brock had fully processed that she knew exactly how he felt about her.

More than that, though, she had always known that Reba felt the exact same way.

_This will be hard,_ she thought as she started on dinner. _But just until its over. Then I'll feel better…it'll all be better. Better for me, Brock, Reba, Henry…everyone. And if it'll be this good then, just wait until he and Reba get back together..!_


	2. Reactions and a Cliffhanger

"Well, you're not in love with Brock," she pointed out, amused

Chapter Two

It was so hard for Brock not to run up to Reba and beg her to take him back during the next few days. He avoided her, much to her disappointment. She, too, was truly tempted to call him up and see what was wrong.

The truth was that Barbara Jean and Brock were both bursting to tell everyone they were divorcing. It was so hard not to be able to talk to anyone of it. They'd talked to the lawyers, who decided that Kyra would go with Brock or Reba and Henry with Barbara Jean. When the day came that the divorce papers arrived, they each signed them as quickly as possible.

"So…that's it, then," Brock sighed.

"Yeah," Barbara Jean said, relieved. "Kinda weird."

"So…ready to tell them all?" Barbara Jean nodded.

"Reba first," they said at the same time. Laughing shakily, they started over to her house.

"Knock-knock…?" Barbara Jean called.

In the kitchen, Reba froze. It was them. She hadn't seen them in two weeks – now they just walk in and yell 'knock-knock'?

She hurried out to make sure it was them. Yup, there they were, closing her front door behind them. For a moment she just stood, staring at them. She'd almost forgotten what they looked like.

"Reba?" Brock asked uncertainly. She still just stood there, only her eyes moving as they flickered between them. Finally she started walking slowly toward them. She was a foot away now, then her eyes turned to stare at Brock.

He tried to smile. "H-hi, R-Reba-"

She cut him off with a punch in the stomach. "Ow!" he yelped, grabbing his ribs.

"What is the matter with you two, not coming around!" she yelled. "I was worried sick – why haven't you been around to bug me?"

"Will you cool it – we'll explain!" Brock yelled, still massaging his stomach where she had hit him.

"Oh, you better!" Reba put her hands on her hips. "What is going on?"

"We're divorced." Barbara Jean said suddenly.

Reba felt as though she'd been hit in the head with the same weight she'd been carrying around. Her mouth fell open, her breathing stopped, and she almost fainted.

"What?" she said finally.

"We're divorced. We signed the papers today," Barbara Jean repeated.

"Oh…oh, no!" Reba moaned.

"What's wrong?"

"No – this isn't how it was supposed to be! You two were supposed to get over_ yourselves_, not each other!" she yelled.

"Okay, Reba, just calm down –"

"No, I will not! You guys just went ahead and got divorced without telling the kids, or me!? I always knew you were nuts, but not completely insane!"

"We thought it be easier on us if we didn't have people telling us not to!"

"Well I got news for you, Brock Hart!" Reba fumed, standing until their faces were mere inches apart. He took a deep breath in so as to control himself from kissing her right then and there. "Divorce isn't supposed to be easy on anyone – will you ever get that? I should know – oh this wasn't supposed to happen, this really, really wasn't supposed to happen!" she had turned away and was sitting on the couch now, her face in her hands.

"Reba! We knew you'd be surprised but not this angry!"

"How could you think I wouldn't be angry? The least you could have done was to tell me so I could figure out a way to tell the kids!"

"That's not your job, Reba. We'll tell them. But it would help a lot if you would calm down." Brock and Barbara Jean drew closer to her, walking towards the couch until they were two feet away.

"Maybe I would be calm in time if you had GIVEN me time!"

"Well obviously that's not the case, so stop throwing a tantrum and calm down!" Brock commanded.

Reba stared at Brock as though he had hit her. He'd never been so stern with her.

"Tantrum?" she gaped.

"That's right, enough acting like a baby!"

"BABY?" she yelled. "THAT'S IT!" she jumped up and tried to tackle Brock, but Barbara Jean intercepted and threw her over her shoulder.

"PUT ME DOWN THIS MINUTE! PUT ME DOWN!" Reba screamed.

Brock watched as his two ex-wives disappeared upstairs. Deciding he needed a drink, he entered the kitchen to find Van and Cheyenne with their ears pressed against the hatch door, eyes wide. Elizabeth was sitting at the table, happily tearing up Cheyenne's latest test. They could only hear so much and got the absolute wrong idea.

"Did you hear what I heard – your Dad called your Mom _**baby**_!" Van hissed.

"Yeah and now he's carrying her upstairs…oh my, mental images!" Cheyenne squeezed her eyes shut.

Brock, who was now watching them with his arms folded, sighed. "That was Barbara Jean, Cheyenne."

Van and Cheyenne jumped and looked at him guiltily.

"Dad, are you and Barbara Jean really divorced?" Cheyenne asked.

"Yes, Cheyenne…and I'm sorry we didn't tell anyone, we thought it would be easier for us without people trying to talk us out of it," Brock sighed. "It wasn't working, we really tried, we tried hard, but things were getting worse."

"So things are going to be okay between you and her, right, I mean, you're still pals?" Van asked.

"Yes, nobody's hurt so far."

"I don't know…Mrs. H is a little feisty," Van pointed out.

"Well, hopefully Barbara Jean can help her," Brock sighed.

There was a silence, then everyone burst out into laughter. "Right, like that could ever happen!"

Upstairs, Barbara Jean threw Reba on the bed.

"What was all that about?" Reba yelled. "You didn't have to carry me upstairs like I'm five!"

"Well, that's how your acting, Reba. And it's how you always act when things don't go your way! Now listen to me, please!" she begged, sitting next to Reba, who scooted away. "We tried. We really did. But the only reason we got married was because Brock felt guilty and that's not a good foundation. Can you just accept this?"

Reba moaned and fell on her back, covering her face. "I can't, I just can't! It's too weird for me to think that you guys aren't married, that all the pain I went through giving him up was for nothing."

Barbara Jean sat in silence for a minute. Finally, staring at her hands, she said quietly, "He still loves you, Reba."

Reba stopped cursing under her breath. She didn't expect that from Barbara Jean of all people at a time like this.

"What?" she whispered.

"He does. I know it – he thought you would…" she broke off, not quite sure how to say it.

Reba lifted her head a little. "Thought I would what?"

"Want him back." Barbara Jean finished.

"Oh." Reba murmured, sitting after another awkward pause.

"Would you?"

"I don't know!" Reba moaned again, punching a pillow. "This is all really hard because I feel like I'm losing everything I thought was working…I don't know if I can take it."

Barbara Jean scoffed and put her arm around Reba. "Sure you can! Reba, you are REBA. R-E-B-A! You get through everything, nothing's bigger than you!"

Before she could stop herself, Reba was crying into Barbara Jean's shoulder. "I know I'm being selfish, Barbara Jean, but…I just want Brock to be happy and I thought this was going to make him happy and now he's alone! I've never seen him alone before…and I want to help him, I really do, because I…"

She stopped talking. This shouldn't be spilling over to Brock's second ex-wife.

But Barbara Jean wanted to hear. She hugged Reba tightly and said, "Go on."

"I hate seeing him alone because it makes me want to be with him again…I never wanted to let him go."

Barbara Jean continued to pat her and hold her tightly until her tears stopped. It only took a few minutes.

"You gonna be okay?" she asked as Reba sat up, wiping her eyes. She nodded.

"I'm sorry, Barbara Jean…I didn't mean for you to have to hear all that," she muttered.

"Please, Reba!" Barbara Jean laughed, looking her in the eye. "You've heard everything I've ever said about Brock! It's the least I could do for you."

Reba gave her a watery smile. "Thanks. So…now that I've let it all out, it's your turn. Vent."

Barbara Jean sighed and looked out across the room. She couldn't really think of anything to say. "As crazy as it is, I'm fine, Reba. I'm happy now that I'm out – if we'd stayed together it would have made us even more miserable. Now that it's over I really am fine. I actually _wanted_ to let him go."

"Well that's good…hard to believe, but good," Reba allowed. "So who gets the house?"

"Me. I get the house and Henry. Kyra goes with either you or Brock," Barbara Jean recited. She paused, then added, "Or both."

Reba gave her a sad smile. "I wish it was that simple, Barbara Jean, but it isn't. My trust once lost is usually lost for good, I'm afraid."

Barbara Jean gave her a quizzical look. "Are you sure? I mean, Brock's changed a lot…and so have you. Everything has. But we both know you really want to try to work things out again."

With that, she decided to give her friend some space (very uncharacteristically, for her) and went back downstairs, leaving Reba to her thoughts.

"How's she doin?" Brock asked as Barbara Jean entered the kitchen. Van and Cheyenne listened intently.

"She…will be okay. She's just…" she struggled with words. "Um…confused."

"What's to be confused about?" Cheyenne frowned. "I understand it fine."

"Well, you're not in love with Brock," she pointed out casually, her guard dropping.

"WHAT?" the entire room yelled.

Barbara Jean covered her mouth in horror. "Craap…!" she growled.

"Mom's in love with Dad…what?" Cheyenne shrieked.

"Shh!" Barbara Jean put her hand over Cheyenne's mouth. "She'll hear you! Then she'll yell at me!"

"BJ, how can you say that Reba loves me?" Brock asked. His heart had suddenly started beating quicker then a drum at a rock concert, and something in the back of his mind was saying, _Don't just stand there, you idiot! She's upstairs, go up there and forget to come back down! _But it would never be that simple; after all, this was Reba.

"Because she does!" Barbara Jean insisted, still covering Cheyenne's mouth. Cheyenne stood limply, unable to break away. "And she's mad that we divorced because she doesn't want to be tempted."

"Is that it?" Brock frowned.

"Mm-hmm-mmmhhh-mm?" Cheyenne murmured, pointing to Barbara Jean's hand.

"Cool it, peaches. Look, pretend I didn't say anything – so when she comes in, nobody move!" she commanded.

"Hey," Reba muttered dully as she entered the kitchen.

"Hiiiiiii…!" they all said, trying to smile.

Reba stared at the false smiles leering at her. "Can you stop that, it's creepy."

"Stop what, honey?" Brock asked.

"Did you call me 'honey'?" Reba demanded, pointing her finger at him.

"No!" Brock lied, Barbara Jean style.

Reba glared, folding her arms. "What is going on?"

"Nothing, nothing!" Barbara Jean faked a laugh.

"Then why is your hand over Cheyenne's mouth?"

"It's not…!" Barbara Jean insisted, dropping her hand.

Reba scowled deeper. "Something's going on here…come clean."

"Mom, nothing is going on, will you stop being so paranoid?" Cheyenne snapped, and scooped up Elizabeth. "Van, c'mon, we're going out."

They headed out the back door as she grabbed her purse. Now it was Barbara Jean, Brock and Reba alone in the kitchen. The first two stood awkwardly, left with the guilt.

Reba focused her look on them. "What was that about, tell me now."

"Reba, it's nothing," Brock assured her. What he really wanted to say was 'Barbara Jean, go away', but he was still getting over the shock himself. But what a pleasant shock it was.

"I'm not stupid, Brock."

"Reba, there's nothing for us to say, honest!" Brock insisted.

Reba huffed out a short sigh. "Okay, I'll take your word for it now…but I'm watchin' you," she added, pointing two fingers from her eyes to them.

"Oh, Reba, you're so funny!" Barbara Jean giggled, pouring herself coffee.

"Ha. Ha.** Ha**."

"Oh, c'mon, lighten up. Now, how about we all go to lunch?"

Reba dropped her jaw. "Brock, how can you talk about going to lunch when there are two members of our family who have yet to find out about the divorce?"

"Okay…can we go afterward?"

"NO!" Reba threw her hands in the air. "Can you say 'tactless'? Brock, you are going to march on home and tell Kyra!"

"You know," Barbara Jean cut in. "I think I should be the one to tell her…you should stay here for now, okay?" she added to Brock, giving him a meaningful look.

Before anyone could say anything she had flown out after Van and Cheyenne. Now it was just Brock and Reba.

Reba shot him a glare before asking, "So, you just want to have lunch here?"

Brock shrugged. "Sure, if you don't mind."

Brock couldn't take his eyes off of her as she moved across the kitchen and pulled down the griddle. His eyes dropped to her lower back as her shirt rose an inch or two, and he noticed something.

"What's that?" he let slip, pointing to a spot on her lower back.

"What?" Reba turned with griddle in her hands.

"…nothing," he muttered sheepishly.

Reba gave him a quizzical look before turning back around and leaning over the counter to plug in the griddle. Again, he saw for a split second some sort of mark on her back. Had she burned herself, spilt something?

On her back? No.

Reba noticed something bugging him as she flipped the grill cheese. He kept fidgeting, not saying a word, as he sat at the table. She was about to say something when he picked up a napkin and pen and started writing something.

She leaned over a little to see what it could be while she spread mayonnaise over the bread, but his hand covered it. Not being able to take it, she asked, "What are you doing?"

He jumped a little and covered the entire napkin. "What?"

Reba sighed impatiently. "What are you doing on that napkin?"

"It's a reminder," Brock fibbed, getting back to work on it.

"You've been working on that reminder for about five minutes. It's something bothering you?" she confronted, bringing the plate of sandwiches to him.

Noticing how easily she'd be able to see the napkin, Brock crumpled it up and put it in his pocket. "No, nothing," he insisted, taking a sandwich.

Reba frowned, then thought of a plan. She walked to the refrigerator and asked, "Can I get you a beer?"

"Sure, if you don't mind."

As she reached the table and he held out his hand, however, she held it back and gave him a sly look.

"…uh, Reba?"

"What's on that napkin, Brock?"

"It's nothing, Reba, please…!"

Reba grinned and held the bottle a little higher. "That nothing sure has your face burning."

"It's the sandwich, it's hot. If you give me my beer I'll cool down." Brock promised teasingly.

She lifted her eyes in thought, then opened the beer. "You know…I think I just might have this, but it is the last one, so…"

"Don't play games – give me the beer!" he laughed.

But Reba was holding it at her lips now. Brock stood and tried to pull it away from her but he ended up pulling her in to him, and their lips stopped at two inches apart…

It was an instinct he hadn't lost, a habit he hadn't broken. Being that close to Reba, Brock had a sudden urge to kiss her.

Maybe he might have if the beer hadn't fallen out of Rebas hand a second before he did.

Both didn't entirely realize why they jumped away from each other, they just ended up three feet away.

"What was that?" Brock asked.

Reba wasn't sure what part he was referring to. Being most comfortable with the one she was less happy about, she said, "I…dropped the beer accidentally."

"Oh." A long awkward silence followed, then Reba said, "Go ahead and eat- I'll wipe it up."

Crap, why did I have to go and drop the stupid bottle? Reba thought as she took a towel from the drawer. That might have been the closest we get..!

As she wiped up the mess, Brock looked down after finishing his first sandwich. He saw it again – there on her back. And now he could tell what it was.

"When did you get a tattoo?" he yelled.


	3. Rebas Splurge

Chapter Three

" 'Always and Forever'? Maybe I should get one that says 'Irony Reigns'."

Chapter Three

Barbara Jean knocked three times on Kyra's door and entered. "Kyra?"

Kyra was sitting with her back to the door, crossed legged on her bed. She didn't make a sound.

"Kyra, sweetie, can we talk?" Barbara Jean asked nervously, sitting beside her. Kyra turned slightly to her, staring at the floor.

"I saw the papers," she said finally.

"You did…?" Barbara Jean asked quietly.

"Yeah. You left them on the table. So…why didn't you tell anyone?"

Barbara Jean sighed. She had a feeling this was just a lull before the storm – she was lucky she had time to prepare for it, though. Reba didn't have a lull, she just went right to the storm.

"We thought it would be easier to accept if we got it done and no one tried to talk us out of it," Barbara Jean explained. After a stony silence from Kyra, she asked, "Are you mad?"

Kyra shook her head but didn't look up yet. She wasn't sure how she felt through the numb of shock, depressed, surprised? When she did finally looked at her step mom, she spoke with a voice that broke with emotion. "I just want a family again."

Barbara Jean felt tears form in her own eyes and held Kyra tightly to herself. Kyra closed her eyes and hugged her back.

Reba felt herself go very red, and jumped to her feet, glaring at Brock.

"What are you talking about, I don't have a tattoo!"

"Reba, it's on your back. I saw it." Brock rolled his eyes.

"…Oh." Reba, embarrassed enough, picked up the towel and headed to put it in the laundry room. When she came back, Brock had still not returned to his sandwiches.

"Brock, snap out of it!" she demanded.

"I can't, Reba! YOU, with a tattoo! It's just weird!" Brock exclaimed.

"Gee, thanks. I got that tattoo a long time ago, quit freaking out about it," Reba ordered.

"But what – why? And what's it say, I wasn't close enough to read it ."

Reba sighed. "It says 'Shut up and eat, Brock'!"

"C'mon, Reba, what's it say?" he pressed.

"No, Brock, you'll just make fun of me!" Reba snapped.

"If you tell me now, I won't tell everyone else that you have a tattoo later!" Brock promised.

"…Craap!" Reba muttered, knowing Brock had won. "Okay, it says 'Always and Forever'. Ya happy?"

"How can I believe you?"

"You'll just have to trust me, wontcha?"

"Let me see it, Reba," Brock grinned, teasing her.

"Oh, please, no, Brock!" Reba moaned.

"Let me see it, or I tell the kids!" he grinned even wider, knowing she couldn't bear that humiliation.

"FINE!" Reba turned around and pulled up the back of her shirt. "Now are you happy?"

Actually, Brock just wanted a chance to see her back, but he acted nonchalant. "It-"

Unfortunately, Kyra and Barbara Jean walked in just in time to see Reba exposing her lower back to Brock. They came to an abrupt halt as they observed the scene.

Reba and Brock, realizing how strange this looked, both laughed nervously as Reba straightened out her shirt. "Uh…hi, we, uh, he, that is to say-"

"I was just-"

"He was getting a dead fly off of my back…it…fell!" Reba fibbed.

Barbara Jean and Kyra exchanged a 'who _**d**_**o **they think they're talking to?' look. Kyra said, "Oh, that's nice. So, Mom, _why_ would it be down the _back_ of your shirt?"

"Good question…! Uh…?" Reba shot a look at Brock. "You make something up, it's all your fault!" she ordered.

"Okay, I don't think we wanna know," Kyra decided and headed to the fridge for a water. Barbara Jean, on the other hand, looked excited.

"That is soo sweet! Brock killed a fly on Reba!" she squealed.

"C'mon, Barbara Jean, it's obvious Dad was just checking out her back," Kyra muttered, taking a drink.

"Kyra," Brock said seriously before Reba could start yelling. "Did Barbara Jean – "

"Yes, she told me, and unlike Mom I am not gonna freak," Kyra finished for him, smirking at Reba.

"I didn't freak!" Reba said defensively.

"Mom, Barbara Jean had to carry you upstairs like a five year old."

"…okay, so I freaked. Now you two still need to tell Jake," Reba blushed, directing the coarse of the conversation somewhere safer.

"I'll do it, man to man," Brock said. "Where is he, anyway?"

"Upstairs with a video game he just got back. Poor kid, I grounded him for two weeks."

Once Brock was gone, Barbara Jean turned and asked, with a huge smile, "What happened, Reba?"

"What are you talking about?"

"C'mon, we walked in here and you were flashing your back. What's going on?" Kyra asked, just as curious.

"If I told you, you'd laugh. I'm not saying anything," Reba insisted.

"Mom, we're already laughing. Spill, or we tell everyone else something crazy- and when I say crazy, I mean crazy for THIS family."

Reba could hardly believe that so many members of your family could threaten the truth out of you so easily in one day.

"Fine!" she huffed, blushing. "I got a tattoo and Brock saw it when I was wiping up some beer that fell on the floor."

"You got a tattoo?" Barbara Jean shrieked.

"No fair, I want one!" Kyra pouted.

"Kyra, no! Oh, Reba! Did it hurt?"

"Who cares!" Kyra waved the notion away like a cloud.

"Enough!" Reba ordered, holding up her hands.

"Can we see it?" Barbara Jean begged.

"NO!"

"Oh, c'mon, don't be a party pooper, Mom! You let Dad see it!" Kyra complained.

"Fine! Geeze, anything to make you shut up!" Reba turned around and showed them.

" 'Always and Forever'? Maybe I should get one that says 'Irony Reigns'."

"Kyra!" Barbara Jean scolded. "You are not getting one!"

"What, because you guys have worked so hard to set a good example?" Kyra scoffed, gesturing to her mother.

"Will you two stop it! Sheesh!" Reba huffed and started over to clean the counters. Unfortunately they were already clean, so she started on the dishes, only to find that they were done. She sighed again, exasperated, as her daughter and friend watched her, amused that she was so desperate for anything to do.

"Mom?" Kyra finally said. "Calm. Down."

"I am calm!" Reba yelled. It took a moment for her to realize how she had said it.

"You know what," Barbara Jean said thoughtfully. "Whenever I'm a little jittery or bored I go to the mall and splurge."

"Really?" against her will, Reba was curious. "Well maybe I should do that…huh." She thought a moment longer before heading out the door, picking up her keys and purse. "Later."

'Later' was at six o'clock that evening. By that time, there were about sixteen missed calls on Rebas phone from her family and when she walked in the front door, it was to seven clueless family members, four of which were worried sick. Two were asleep in front of the couch, and the other was, well, Kyra, who didn't really care. Jake, who had taken the news of the divorce with a shrug and 'okay', was at a friends house.

"Mom, where have you BEEN?" Cheyenne shrieked.

"Shopping!" Reba answered innocently, holding up three rather small bags.

"And that's all you got?" Barbara Jean asked incredulously, peering at them. They were from Chicos and Nordstrom.

Reba gave a nervous laugh. "Uh…not quite." Setting them on the table next to the door, she held up a finger and was gone for moment. When she returned, each finger held a considerably larger shopping bag.

"Whoa, Mom, you got all that today?" Kyra hurried over. Brock was more concerned over what was inside of them, and asked:

"Reba, are you crazy, what did you buy?"

"Stuff," she answered after a quick look inside her bags.

"I cannot wait to see all of it!" Cheyenne squealed and took some of the bags from her mom.

Kyra, just as curious, took the ones from the table, and they all went upstairs, Barbara Jean squealing, "How much did you spend at Victoria's Secret alone?"

Van, who hadn't moved from the couch or picked his jaw up off the floor, finally let out something between a scoff and a choke. "Victoria's Secret? She spent the day at Victoria's Secret? Damn, if she wasn't my mother-in-law..!"

"Van!" Brock glared at him. Relaxing, he sighed. "What got into her, I mean, it's not like Reba to just up and spree like that!"

"She _is_ of the female persuasion, you know."

"Good point. But still, do you think she bought all that for herself?"

"Probably. Why not?"

"Again, good point, but this isn't normal for Reba. She's usually the one that yells at whoever goes out and spends so much, you know?"

"You don't think it may have something to do with a certain man, do you?" Van hinted.

Brock considered this, then sighed. "Look, Van, I just don't think Reba feels that way. I think Barbara Jean got something mixed up or mistranslated something, you know how she is."

"Mr. H, I wouldn't be surprised. You know, the whole two weeks that you were avoiding us, Mrs. H was her quietest. I could do anything and she didn't yell. She just sort of moped around, kept looking at the door every three seconds. You have no idea how much crap I got away with," Van sighed dreamily. "I ordered pizza and used her credit card, went to the store at three in the morning for chips, wow…"

Brock sat in silence for a minute. Then he asked, "You really think she'd…you know..?"

"In a heartbeat. She probably feels like I usually do when someone finally puts Oreo's on the list again and BANG there in the cupboard…great, now I'm hungry!" Van whined and hurried into the kitchen.

Brock shrugged and spent the next couple of minutes staring at the two sleeping children in front of the TV.

Upstairs, Reba began putting away everything that she had bought.

"Whoa, Mom!" Cheyenne exclaimed, holding up a black lacy lingerie. "Whose this for?"

"Me?" Reba answered as though it was obvious and snatched it away.

"I mean," Cheyenne explained exasperatedly. "Who are you wearing it for?"

"Me, myself and I. There's a pink one, too."

"Reba, what convinced you to buy this, look at the price?" Barbara Jean exclaimed, holding up a dark blue formal dress.

"Well, it matched the necklace!"

"You bought a dress to go with a necklace? Damn you, Mom!" Cheyenne muttered enviously.

"You two don't honestly think I won't share, do you? Those Gucci shoes go with everything."

"YOU GOT GUCCI SHOES? Mom, whose credit card did you use?"

"Mine! I've been saving for awhile now, and it was totally worth it. Anyway they aren't real Gucci, I'm not a rich _idiot_."

"Oh, adorable!" Barbara Jean squealed, holding up the shoes. Then she frowned in disappointment. "Aw, these are way too small for me..!"

"Don't worry, I got them in your size, too," Reba assured her.

"Mom, okay, before we go any further, what inspired you to go so nuts?"

"Barbara Jean and Kyra," Reba answered simply. "I had to get my mind off some things and this was the best way."

"What things?"

Reba glowered into the back of her closet as she hung up the last of the shirts. "You do not wanna know."

Cheyenne and Barbara Jean exchanged a significant 'I know we already know but we have got to get it out of her!' look and Cheyenne cleared her throat. "Yeah, probably not. I mean Dad said that same thing today and I really wish I hadn't pried."

Reba pivoted to give her daughter a quizzical look. "What do you mean?'

"About what? Oh, Dad? Nothing, nothing…"

"Cheyenne, what?" Reba begged, sitting next to her.

"Mom, you do not wanna know," Cheyenne quoted her mother. Behind Reba, Barbara Jean pursed her lips so as not to let giggles slip.

"C'mon, what's on his mind?'

Cheyenne sighed and looked up at Barbara Jean, giving her the tiniest of winks. She got the hint.

"Oh, Reba…"

But they didn't have a chance to explain. At that moment, a knock sounded at the door and Brock and Van entered.

"Whoa, Mrs. H! Those bags sure can hold a lot of – oh my!" Van broke off, holding up the pink nighty.

Brock, who had to blink several times before he had quite gotten the lovely image of Reba in it out of his mind, said, "Reba, you shouldn't have disappeared like that for so long. We were worried sick – and whose credit card did you use?"

"Mine! Get over it Brock, I had to clear my mind so I went on a spree, is that so hard to understand? Besides, I probably spent a little over what three games of golf would cost you."

"Th-three games…? Oh, crap!" Brock moaned.

Everyone joined in the laughter, but Cheyenne took advantage of the distractions to whisper to Barbara Jean, "Call you tomorrow…we have a LOT of planning to do!"


	4. They Dont Plan, They Plot

Chapter Four

"_Every other Saturday  
first thing in the morning_

_I turn the TV on to make the quiet go away…"_

Chapter Four

Barbara Jean asked Cheyenne to come over very early the next day so they could plan face to face. And, of course, have coffee – it was five thirty in the morning, after all.

"So, Barbara Jean, you're sure your okay with all this?" Cheyenne asked hesitantly as she poured creamer into her mug.

"Please, Cheyenne!" Barbara Jean assured her, rolling her eyes. "Now, the first thing we should do is get Reba to play a little hard to get."

"She's got that covered – you've seen her when she's in the mood for dissing him. So actually we've got to get Dad to flirt with her."

"Good, but he does that anyway. So it looks like we've just got to point out to Reba that he's flirting, and point out to Brock that she's playing hard to get!"

"I better write this down," Cheyenne decided and grabbed a napkin. "Hey, these are just like Moms."

"Oh yeah, I was running low one day and she was at work so I stole them. Pretty, aren't they?"

"Yep," Cheyenne said absentmindedly, writing – Brock- flirting, Reba- hard 2 get. "Okay…so once that's done, we'll have to get them alone together. I'm thinking we lock them in the bathroom."

"Brocks claustrophobic!"

"Oh…well, that's something to remember," Cheyenne said, writing – Brock – claustrophobic. "So, where should they go?"

"Brocks condo. It's quiet and stocked with booze."

"Barbara Jean, they're supposed to talk, not get loaded!" Cheyenne wrote – NO CONDO! "Now where will they meet?"

"I don't kn-oh, Kyra!" Barbara Jean yelled suddenly. Kyra was coming down the stairs in black sweats and smeared up eyeliner.

"What the heck, I know you two are blonde, but what's with waking up at five thirty on a Sunday?" she complained, rubbing her eyes.

"Shh, Kyra, we're plotting to get Brock and Reba together again!" Barbara Jean hissed, looking over her shoulder as though afraid that someone would hear them.

"Oh. Good luck wit that," Kyra said sarcastically, pulling the cereal down from the cupboard.

"Kyra, you okay with all this?" Cheyenne asked concernedly.

"Uh, sure. Sounds all right…but you better make Dad stay true to his word this time, Barbara Jean," the fourteen-year-old rolled her eyes, pouring milk into the bowl. "No hanky-panky in the X-ray room again."

"Rodger that. Hey, Kyra, where do you think a good place for your parents to sit down and talk is?" Barbara Jean asked, struck by a sudden idea.

"Someplace without sharp objects, booze, or a TV."

"I think the bathroom is starting to sound like our best option."

"Attic?"

"There are nails everywhere – if you didn't know, Cheyenne, they're sharp," Kyra pointed out solemnly.

"Gee, thanks, Kyra," Cheyenne sneered. "Okay, so not the attic, not the bathroom…" she scribbled them on the napkin.

"Why not the shed?" Barbara Jean suggested brightly. "It's small, dimly lit, and we can set it up just fine!"

"Perfect!" Cheyenne exclaimed, writing SHED! and circling and underlining it. "Okay, I'll sneak some of the nicer cushions…and a bucket of ice and Champaign…"she feverishly listed everything.

Meanwhile, back at home, Reba had jerked awake after hearing the door slam (but she thought it was most likely just Van slamming the bathroom door again). She'd dreamt that Barbara Jean had jumped out of a painting with red hair and started yelling about "SAVE THE BEANIE BABIES!" Then Brock had come in and proposed to Kyra while Jake announced he'd gotten an F in every subject.

Reba had another urge to sit up and yell "I NEED A LIFE!" again, but she decided to get up and get ready for work. And, since she was feeling especially evil, after showering and getting dressed, she ran into her daughter and son-in-laws room to wake them up.

"VAN AND CHEYENNE WILL YOU GET UP ITS MONDAY!" she cackled wickedly.

Van jerked awake, screamed, and rolled on the floor, tangled in blankets. Reba leaned against the wall, peals of laughter escaping quickly through deep breaths.

"Mrs. H!" Van yelled, crawling back onto his bed. "You are evil."

Reba sighed, still chuckling. "I'm sorry, Van…"

"No, you're not!"

"No. I'm not. But maybe I will be later and I'll tell you then."

"What's the big deal, it's seven thirty, Saturday morning!?" Van moaned, rubbing his shoulder, which he had landed pretty hard on.

"It was just so tempt– where's Cheyenne?" Reba cut herself off abruptly, noticing the blonde head of her daughter absent from the blue sheets.

"What are you talking about?"

"Well a few years back you married a seventeen year old and had a child. Do you know where she is?'

"Huh? Oh – wow, where is she?"

"I just asked you!"

"Wait – where's Elizabeth?" Van yelled.

Van and Reba exchanged one look before they bolted downstairs, Van still in his boxers and T-shirt, screaming, "CHEYENNE!"

"Barbara Jeans house – they might be over there!" Van suggested and grabbed the phone.

At Barbara Jeans house, Cheyenne was feeding Elizabeth some graham crackers and giggling excitedly over the plan they had set up for Brock and Reba.

"Oh, they're gonna be so-" the phone rang. Cheyenne stared at it suspiciously. "Where you expecting a call at six in the morning?"

"No- go ahead an answer it," Barbara Jean said curiously.

Cheyenne pressed the talk button. "Hello?"

"Cheyenne, honey, what are you doing? I woke up a flipped out when you weren't there! Well actually the 'flipping out' part came before I woke up because your mom came in and started screaming like a maniac!"

"Oh, um is Mom standing next to you or anything…?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Nothing – well, actually something big, but I'll explain when Elizabeth and I get back, okay? Okay see you soon." Cheyenne hung up and sighed.

"We better go, Mom and Van are up," she grimaced.

"Oh, okay. Well don't let her know about any of this, okay? No funny giggles or glances – and make sure Van knows, too!"

"Barbara Jean, I'm fine. I hide stuff from Mom all the time – I'm just worried about you. Will you be able to keep this under your hat?"

Barbara Jean bit her lip nervously and croaked, "…I'll try…!"

When Cheyenne was home, Reba and Van stood over her like a couple of parents and asked, "Where have you been?"

"I'm sorry! Barbara Jean called my cell and wanted to chat over coffee, just about…yoga!…and stuff," Cheyenne fibbed.

"Okay, but next time leave a note, or something, we were really scared!" Reba said exasperatedly.

"Mom I … okay," Cheyenne agreed with a sigh. "Hey, Van, can you come with me upstairs for a second, I need to ask you what you think about this skirt…"

The moment they were upstairs, Cheyenne told him everything as she dressed Elizabeth.

"…and so we'll get them in the shed and see what happens," Cheyenne finished.

Van stared at Cheyenne, passive, then leaned in and quietly asked, "Cheyenne, are you sure that was coffee you had with Barbara Jean?"

"Oh, Van! C'mon, we're serious here - Mom and Dad are gonna get back together if it's the last thing we do. Get over it!"

"Okay, I'm fine with it, its just…if he hurts her_ again _I'm gonna get some of my old football buddies together and kill 'em."

"Aw, that's the Van I love!" Cheyenne cooed, kissing him. She finished pulling a shirt over Elizabeth and they went back downstairs.

They walked into the living room where Reba was turning on the TV.

"You watching something, Mom?" Cheyenne asked.

"Huh? Oh, no…it was quiet." The truth was Reba was remembering a line from a favorite song "Every Other Weekend".

"_Every other Saturday  
first thing in the morning_

_I turn the TV on to make the quiet go away_

_I know why, but I don't know hwy_

_We every let this happen_

_Falling for forever was a big mistake_

_There's so much not to do and all day not to do it in_

_Every other weekend…"_

She found herself humming this part as she walked into the kitchen and began the dishes. Brock entered the back door, unnoticed by her, in time to her Reba sing the rest.

"_So I can't tell him I love him_

'_cause there's too many questions_

_and ears in the car_

_So I don't tell him I miss him_

_He's over me that's where we are_

_So we're as close as we might ever be again_

_Every other weekend…_

_For fifteen minutes we're a family again_

_God, I wish that he was still with me again_

_Every other weekend."_

"Wow," Brock said unconsciously. She could really sing!

Reba jumped and turned around. "Brock!" she yelled. "When did you come in?"

"Right before you started singing – sorry, I didn't want to interrupt you – you sounded great."

"Thanks," Reba blushed. "Gosh, everyone seems to be getting up early this morning."

"What do you mean?"

"Well this morning Barbara Jean and Cheyenne were up at the crack of dawn drinking coffee, I had a very freaky dream and couldn't get back to sleep, now its about eight o'clock and you're over here. We just can't seem to sleep in."

"At least you got some sleep," Brock sighed.

"What do you mean?" It was Rebas turn to ask.

"I just can't get to sleep – I haven't in days!" he admitted. Brock knew the reason why, though.

"Huh, that's not good. Something on your mind?" Reba asked, remembering the subject Cheyenne and Barbara Jean had hinted on the previous day.

"Oh, no…its just adjusting is all, but you don't wanna hear about it."

Reba sighed and walked over to him. "I know it must be hard, Brock. But you'll get used to it."

She put her arms around him and held him tightly. Surprised but comforted, Brock returned the embrace. "Thanks, Reba," he murmured, running his fingers through her hair.

"Aww!"

Reba and Brock jumped apart and glared at Cheyenne, who was standing in the doorway, her hands over her mouth in adoration. "It's so cute!" she giggled before walking to the refrigerator.

"I was just comforting your father, Cheyenne, don't get all mushy!" Reba insisted.

"Oh, yeah! Like you were just comforting him yesterday by showing off your secret tattoo?"

"What – did Barbara Jean tell you?"

Cheyenne froze before putting the bottle of water to her lips. "Craap…!" she growled before hurrying away.

Reba sighed and smiled up at Brock. "So, you wanna talk about anything, Brock?"

"Well, yeah. But not about me. I wanna hear more about you," he said.

"Oh, c'mon-"

"No, Reba, really! I wanna hear why you've been acting so crazy – between the tattoo and the 350 shopping spree, I'm getting a little suspicious."

"Okay, first of all that was only 250! And second, that tattoo was from a long, long time ago!"

"Before or after the divorce?"

"Before."

"So…it was for me?"

Reba held up her finger in protest, then paused, realizing she'd been caught. "Craap!" she muttered.


	5. Fights

**Okay so I made a couple of mistakes in chapter four "They Don't Plan, They Plot". It's Saturday, and Reba and Van don't have to work. Sorry for any confusion - enjoy the chapter!**

"Sometimes, when I can't sleep, I wonder where we would be now if I hadn't been so stupid. Sometimes I can't help but really, really want to know."

Chapter Five

"It _was_ for me!" Brock repeated, astonished. "Reba, why didn't you show it to me before?"

"Look, Brock," Reba sighed. "I got that a little bit after the separation. I was gonna show it to you, then you went and knocked up Barbara Jean."

"Well why didn't you get it removed?"

Reba considered telling the real reason, but pushed the notion to the back of her mind. "Well I figured it didn't really matter. I don't look at my lower back much anyway. In fact, I hadn't thought about it in months until you saw it the other day. So enough about my personal life – what about yours?"

"It just gets a little…weird, you know?" Brock sighed sitting next to the island on a stool. "Going to bed alone every night…coming home from work and not seeing a beautiful wom…little boy inside."

"Wait – the divorce was just made final yesterday, what's all this 'every day' crap?"

"Well I actually moved back into the condo about a few days ago. I'm still getting used to it."

"Mm hmmm." Reba was starting to get bored (by bored I mean a little reminded of how _she_ had felt after the divorce, and emotional about it) and went back to her dishes. She put herself on airpilot, drowning out everything he said next.

"I don't know…maybe I need some company."

"Sounds like it."

"Hey!" Brock was overcome by a sudden idea.

"Yup."

"You think?" Brock asked excitedly.

"Yes. Wait – what?" she asked, snapping out of auto-pilot. That was never a good idea with Brock; she would have to remember not to do it again.

"Can I start coming over a bit more?"

"Hey, there's a thought. You asking for permission to bug me out of my wits," Reba laughed.

"Please, Reba? I need the kids more than ever, but I can't keep stealing them away from you – if I hang out around here more often I'll feel a lot more like a Dad again."

"It won't solve your problems, Brock…at least,_ I_ don't think it will. And Kyra said she hadn't decided who she'd stay with, anyway, maybe it'll be you." As painful as that was for Reba, she knew Brock would probably need the company. "But what do you mean by 'a bit more'?"

"Uh…" Brock stared at his feet. "All afternoon for the next few weeks?"

"Brock, no! That's way too often – like you said, I need them, too!"

"But why not, Reba? See, this way, you and I get to spend time with the kids, not all just you or me!"

"Brock, it's too dangerous! With all the feel-good family mush where will the hate go?"

Brock sighed. He knew Reba liked to shield herself with humor. "Will you please just consider it, Reba?"

Reba stopped her work again and looked him straight in the eye. "Okay, Brock, I'm gonna be completely honest with you." She double checked to make sure no one had their ear pressed against the back door, then sat next to him. "There's talk. Cheyenne keeps hinting that we're…you know, Vans been calling you Mr. H-H-_Hot _and Barbara Jean claims that we're…you know!" Reba finished.

Brock tried to take all this in, even if it hurt. "So you wanna crush all these rumors by keeping me away? Reba, no offense, but that would make it obvious that something's going on."

"Not as much as – wait, what's that supposed to mean? You really think something's going on between us?" Reba felt her heart quicken at the notion, saying this as though it was absurd.

Brock didn't know what to say. He looked at his feet. For a moment he considered telling her what he'd heard from Barbara Jean and Van, but chose a safer route. "I guess so, Reba, something must be going on. You're supposed to be angry with me but your comforting me. We're talking about out relationship and not yelling. Right now I wouldn't be surprised if the family's listening in! And sometimes…"

Reba swallowed hard. "Sometimes what, Brock?"

"Sometimes I wonder where we would be now if I hadn't been so stupid. Sometimes I can't help but really, really want to know."

Reba felt herself at a loss for words now. "What are you trying to say, Brock?"

"I think we might still have feelings for each other."

Reba felt her eyes widen and her jaw fall slightly open. She looked at the counter and said, "Oh."

"Is that all you can say, 'oh'?"

"Well what do you want me to say?" Reba muttered.

"…I don't know."

"So why did you say anything?" she whispered.

"Because I want to be honest with you – and I'm not gonna hold that in."

Reba felt her eyes fill up with tears as she looked in Brocks. She knew they weren't lying just by the way the blue iris wasn't clouded up with black or gray, like usual. _He wasn't lying._

"Brock I really don't know what to say…what do you want from me?" she burst.

"Do you love me?"

Reba felt his hand close over hers. She whispered, "This is way too fast, Brock, what are you thinking?"

"Reba, can you answer the question?"

She wanted to. But she had no idea how he felt - how could she just come out and say how much she loved him when their was no way to trust him, or his judgement of 'love'? Here was a man who'd cheated on her after 20 years, divorced her, married his mistress, divorced _her..._

_"_Reba?" Brock pressed again. She was lost in thought, her breath caught in her chest. Then -

"YOU IDIOT - VAN, I CANNOT BELIEVE YOU WOULD ACTUALLY THINK THIS WOULD BE A GOOD IDEA, YOU COMPLETE IDIOT!"

"Cheyenne, please, I didn't mean to-"

The two came storming into the kitchen, Cheyenne with her hands over her ears, yelling incoherently. Van just followed exasperatedly, yelling too quietly for a human to hear him over Cheyenne.

"MOM! OOOHhhh…hi, Dad," Cheyenne stopped yelling when she noticed her parents sitting mere inches apart, hand in hand.

At the sight of their eldest daughter and son-in-law, Brock let go of Reba, who spaced herself and stood.

"Cheyenne, what is going on?" she asked, completely distracted with the behavior of Van and Cheyenne.

"I could ask the same question!" Cheyenne said slowly, staring at the back of her fathers head. Getting back to her Mom and husband, she placed her glare right back on her face and said, "Van wants us to fly to some weird city on some weird island with the stupid team this summer – Mom, tell him it's a horrible idea!"

"What's wrong with going, Cheyenne?"

"OH AM I THE ONLY ONE HERE THAT THINKS?" she yelled, wringing her hands. "You – all… soo…UGH!"

With that Cheyenne stormed form the house, still yelling incoherently. Van just said, "But…but…!" and collapsed at the table, pulling at his hair once or twice.

"Van why doesn't she wanna go?" Reba asked, who seemed be finding her daughter rather amusing at the moment. She was giggling like crazy.

"It's not funny, Mrs. H! She's really upset and I have NO CLUE why!" Van moaned and slumped in his chair.

"Maybe she doesn't want to take the baby so far on a plane," Brock suggested.

"Really? Then why didn't she just say that?" Van gaped at his father-in-law. "Gosh, now I know I have to get her un-mad at me! Mrs. H, TELL ME what to say to get her to forgive me – please!"

"Van just tell her you understand and that y'all won't go – it's as simple as that!" Reba instructed. "Go on, she's probably out beating up y'all's car right about now."

Van jumped to his feet and hurried out the door, yelling, "CHEYENNE, DON'T HURT ANYTHING YET!"

Reba laughed harder as Van scrambled away, slamming the door. "Those two!" she chuckled, smiling at Brock.

"Yeah," Brock smiled. Just then, however, both remembered the topic they had been in the middle of before the interruption as their eyes bet.

"Well I better go," Reba sighed, starting out of the kitchen. "Later, Brock."

"Reba-"

But she didn't turn around. She didn't want to delve any deeper into this – she was sorry she'd comforted him at all – she wouldn't have if she'd known he'd go all lovey-dovey on her. She just kept walking and was out of the kitchen.

Of course, she didn't go to work. She never worked on Saturdays unless she had an open house. Instead she went right to Barbara Jeans house – something she also barely _ever_ did on _any _day.

"Barbara Jean!" she called. She heard a muffled, "Just a second!" for upstairs, and sat at the counter, waiting.

Something caught her eye – it was a napkin with writing on it. It took her a minute to realize it was one of hers, and when she noticed the writing, she was reminding of yesterday, when Brock had hidden something he'd written on a napkin.

Checking over both shoulders, Reba picked it up. It was his handwriting – he'd passed it down to all of the kids, as well.

_-Brock – claustrophobic_

_-NO CONDO!_

_- SHED!_

_- Fix lock_

_- Change light bulbs_

_- Champagne, flowers, candles, curtains, cushions_

Reba read the strange list, very confused. Why was Brock referring to himself in third person? And what about not having condo anymore - and it had a shed? He could change light bulbs? What was this about the whole candles and curtains?

"Hey, Re – PUT THAT DOWN!" Barbara Jean shrieked as she walked into the kitchen.

"What is this – has Brock explained this to you?"

"Brock? Brock? Who's Brock? You know Reba, you shouldn't read other peoples napkins. It's impolite."

Reba stared at her friend, then back at the napkin. "He wrote this all down at my house yesterday."

"**Nohedidn't**!" Barbara Jean said quickly, snatching it out of Rebas hand.

"Hey – "

"WOW LOOK AT THAT!" Barbara Jean yelled, pointing out the window. Tricked, Reba turned around for just long enough for Barbara Jean to stuff the napkin down her blouse.

"What?" she asked, turning back around.

"Oh, um, it was probably just the wind," Barbara Jean fibbed. Reba raised her eyebrows.

"You can't see the wind, Barbara Jean."

"Oh, I can," Barbara Jean assured her. "There was this one time, I think I saw the face of my great-grandfather floating around."

Reba gave Barbara Jean a quizzical stare, then shook her head. "Oh well, I didn't come over here to talk about the wind. I want to talk about Brock."

"Oh?" Barbara Jean pressed keenly, praying nothing would slip. "What about Brock?"

Reba sighed. She wasn't quite sure how to describe the way he'd been. "I think he's depressed, or something. He's just been acting funny lately."

"Oh, Reba, Brock's like this after all his divorces," Barbara Jean assured her perkily. "Nothing to worry about."

"I don't know, Barbara Jean. He keeps bringing up the past, saying stuff I _**know**_ he doesn't mean."

"What kind of stuff?"

"Just about he wonders how things could have been if you two hadn't gotten married- or how he claims to have feelings for me."

"Well what makes you think he doesn't mean it?"

"Because he doesn't! Barbara Jean, either this is his second mid-life crisis or he never got over the first one."

"Maybe it's his mulligan, you know. He was always talking about his mulligan.," Barbara Jean suggested. "But Reba, I think what he's saying is the truth, I really do."

"Well how will I know, after all he's done to hurt me? He's lied, he's cheated, he's been up in my face all the time…the man is just plain bipolar!"

"Well, would you be willing to give him another chance if you thought he did mean it?"

Reba didn't know what to say. She sighed. "I don't know, Barbara Jean…"

"Just think about this for a second: If I hadn't been around, would you still have been married to Brock?"

"I don't know…." She repeated. "If it hadn't been you it probably would have just been someone else."

"Oh, yeah right, Reba!" Barbara Jean snorted. "There are only so many women who can put up with Brock Enroll Hart."

"Good point," Reba sighed. "Say this is gonna sound crazy, but can I hang here for the rest of the afternoon?"

"Oh my gosh!" Barbara Jean's breath caught in her throat. "You…you just asked to spend time with me?"

"And now I'm starting to regret it," Reba muttered. "But yes, if you don't have anything going on, that is?"

"Oh, no, no! Of course not!" Barbara Jean waved her hands in the air excitedly. "Oh, this'll be so fun! My first full day as Former-Mrs. Brock Hart – spent with the genuine article herself!"

In her mind, however, Barbara Jean was wondering how this would work out. Could Cheyenne put together everything they'd planned for their evening alone? And furthermore, could she keep it to herself?


	6. Story Swapping

Chapter Six

Chapter Six

Barbara Jean sent Henry away with the neighbors so that she could get at least one distraction out for this extra busy day. Now she just needed a private word with Cheyenne, which would be difficult with Reba hanging over her shoulder.

"Barbara Jean, does…I mean, _did _Brock ever make you do auto-mechanic work?" Reba asked, peering through the curtains. She could see the teenage neighbor across the street, changing a tire. Sigh. Nope, not even looking out a freakin window could get him off of her mind. "Because I can remember exactly one time – in our entire marriage – that he changed our oil."

"Uh…" Barbara Jean racked her brains, trying to figure out what Reba was talking about. "Oil? You need cooking oil?"

"No!! Ugh, never mind. We're trying to _forget _about Brock. New subject," Reba insisted. She thought for a moment, then said, "Would you like to go out to lunch today?"

"Sure, sounds great!" Barbara Jean said eagerly. "Reba?" she said after a moment of thought.

"Hmm?"

"Are we bonding?"

Reba stared her down dully for a moment or two. Then she said finally, "Yes."

"Yay!!" Barbara Jean squealed, clapping her hands together excitedly. "I'm bonding with Reba, we're going to lunch, oh, I can't wait! When's lunch?"

"Three hours." Reba smiled a little as Barbara Jean sighed in disappointment. As hard as it was to believe, Barbara Jean really was her best friend – the best friend she'd ever had, if you looked past the whole stealing-her-man thing. "Where would you like to go?"

"Uh….I haven't been to the Olive Garden in a long time, how about that place?"

"Great! I remember once when Brock and I went there-" Reba began, then met Barbara Jean's eye. She blushed; Barbara Jean gave her a sad, understanding smile.

"Sorry," Reba sighed.

"Don't be," Barbara Jean said forgivingly. "So, Olive Garden it is?" she asked brightly.

The day seemed to go rather fast for both of them. They had plenty of laughs, and as much as they tried to avoid it, the subject of married life to Brock was brought up.

It was when Barbara Jean led Reba back into the storage room to pull out some photos of the family; she accidentally fell over a set of golf clubs, which were laying on their side.

"Oh, ow!" she moaned, hitting the floor.

"Whoa, Barbara Jean are you okay?" Reba asked, extending her hand to pull her friend off the ground.

"Yeah…thanks." She rubbed the small of her back. "Dang, stupid golf clubs, how did Brock manage to leave them here?"

Reba, however, was staring at them. Slowly, she pulled one out and examined it. Yes – there was still a piece of tape stuck around the shiny metal…

"Reba?"

She snapped out of her reverie. "Sorry," she mumbled, sliding the putter back into place.

"You know, I don't know why Brock still even has these. They're so beat up, don't they have a warranty?" Barbara Jean complained.

"They were a present," Reba said flatly.

"What, for his third birthday?" Barbara Jean rolled her eyes.

"No, for our third anniversary."

Barbara Jean felt her face go red. "Oh…um…Reba, I'm so sorry…"

"It's all right," she sighed. "I don't know why he would keep them."

"Oh, Reba, isn't it obvious?" Barbara Jean said exasperatedly. "He couldn't get rid of them – they were an anniversary gift from _you_!

The most I ever got him for our anniversary was a laptop, and it broke down. But don't rub it in, I think it was his fault," she added.

Reba couldn't help but smile. Brock was hopeless with computers. "Well, it was a nice thought. Brock probably really wanted one."

"No, he didn't," Barbara Jean admitted. "I was just sick of him crashing ours."

Reba actually laughed. "I remember when we got our first computer, you couldn't get Brock off of it! At first I thought he was addicted, then I realized he couldn't figure out how to play Hearts online."

Now Barbara Jean laughed. "You know one time he typed our Christmas letter, and instead of typing 'my ex-wife, Reba,' he typed 'my sex-wife, Reba'!"

Reba held her sides and doubled over with laughter. "No, way! He didn't send it out, did he?"

"No, no! Well, only one to one to his mother, then I stopped him before he could send any more. It was rather embarrassing, and he made me promise not to tell you."

"Nice job," Reba said sarcastically.

"Hey, we aren't married anymore; old promises don't count," Barbara Jean winked. "And those old promises that don't count anymore include secrets, you know."

Reba frowned, comprehending this. Then her face split into a wicked smile. "We wouldn't!"

"Oh, wouldn't we?" her evil-hearted friend purred.

She stared at Barbara Jean for a moment, wondering if she should jump at this opportunity or respect Brocks privacy.

Respect Brocks privacy? Ha! That's a good one!

"What are we waiting for? Let's grab a drink and spill!" Reba squealed excitedly, and the laughing friends hurried out to the kitchen, knocking over Brocks golf clubs as they went.

Once they were on the couch, each with a martini, Reba said, "Okay, you start."

"Nuh-uh, I already said the one about our Christmas letter, it's your turn."

"Okay, fine!" Reba sighed and dug down deep in her memory. "Something embarrassing about Brock…where do I go first…oh, this one's classic!" she said excitedly. "Our first Christmas together, Brock got me a gift at the same place he got my mother one. In the morning I woke up to everything perfect – my favorite breakfast was on the table, he'd pulled the curtains back so I could see the sun glistening on the snow…it was absolutely heavenly. Then I opened my big present and…it was a set of picture frames."

Barbara Jean froze. "Brock…got you….picture frames? For a 'big present'?"

Reba shook her head, waving her hands in the air. "Just wait, just wait! So I said, 'Oh, thanks!' but really my feelings were hurt, and you know I was disappointed. Then he yelled, 'WHAT?'. He realized he confused my gift with my Mom's – so whatever he got me was sent to her."

"NO WAY! What did he send her?"

Reba struggled not to fall over laughing. It had been so long since she'd even let this cross her mind. "He sent her a trip to the spa certificate….along with the teeniest little lingerie to wear afterwards!"

The two fell against the couch, laughing harder than either of them had in a very long time. They each could imagine Helen's expression when she opened this Christmas present from her son-in-law.

"Anyway," Reba attempted to continue, wiping a tear from her eye. "So it wasn't very funny at the time, so I picked up the phone and called mamma and told her not to open the present because it was the wrong one and to send it back. She said she hadn't opened it and she'd send it as soon as possible. Now, remember, I had NO idea what was make Brock so nervous until I actually opened the package a few days later!"

"Unfortunately," Reba continued. "My mamma had opened it out of curiosity and left a note - it said, 'Why, Brock, how did you know?'"

After their laughter died down, it was Barbara Jeans turn.

"Uh, Reba, do you mind if I go to the bathroom real fast?" she asked, thinking quickly. She needed to call Cheyenne.

"Okay, fine, but think of a story on the way!" Reba insisted. Barbara Jean nodded, laughing, and hurried to her bathroom upstairs.

Once inside, she shut the door and pulled out her cell phone.

Cheyenne answered after the third ring. "Barbara Jean, what's up?"

"Hey, Cheyenne! You still wanna do the trap tonight?"

"Yeah, of course, you wanna come over and help set up?"

"That's the thing – I can't! Your Mom came over here to hang out today."

Cheyenne's mind couldn't quite comprehend this sentence. "My…mom? As in, your ex-husbands ex-wife? As in, Reba Hart?"

"Yes, Cheyenne." Barbara Jean couldn't believe anyone could be so slow. "So I was hoping you could take care of the shed, get your dad in there, then I'd send Reba in?"

"Um…" Cheyenne hesitated. She usually spent Saturday's at the mall, or with Van and Elizabeth. But…she could do this for her parents. "Yeah, sounds good. The list still over there?"

Barbara Jean felt it sitting uncomfortably in her shirt, remembering it for the first time since she'd put it there. "Yeah, I got it. I'll set it on the counter, think you can sneak in at about 11? We're going to lunch."

Taking in the fact that her mom was actually voluntarily going to lunch with her step-mom, Cheyenne said, "Sure. Just don't let her read it."

"Umm…"

"Barbara Jean, has she read it?" Cheyenne panicked.

"Psh…NNNnnnnooo…."

"BARBARA JEAN!"

"Okay, so she did! But she had no idea what it was about and I distracted her and took it away. Don't worry, she thought Brock had written it all out anyway."

Cheyenne, who had felt a scream start somewhere around every pulsing vein in her body at the news, felt herself relax. Reba didn't understand it. "Okay, Barbara Jean, have fun! I'll check in with you when everything's done."

"Okay, bye!"

"Bye!"

Barbara Jean hung up and hurried back downstairs. "Sorry, the martini mixed with way too much laughing-"

"Barbara JEAN!"

"Sorry, sorry, never mind," Barbara Jean said quickly, sitting back on the couch. "So, my turn…"

At home, Cheyenne thought hard. It hurt. She'd never had so many questions in her head before that she _didn't_ know the answer to.

_What is Moms favorite drink? What is Dads favorite drink? Would finger foods be romantic or interfering? Should we put cushions on the floor or would that be tacky? Does that curtain go around the entire inside of the shed? How early is too early to send them in there? How late is too late to send them in there? What time should I go down there to let them out?_

"VAN!" Cheyenne yelled.

Van hurried downstairs. "Cheyenne, what's wrong, you have a funny look on your face?"

"Thinking hurts!" Cheyenne moaned, holding her head in her hands.

"I'd think for you, Cheyenne, I really would, I swear, but…well, it hurts," Van agreed.

"You bet it does."

"But tell me what's wrong, at least." Van sat next to her on the couch and put his arm around her.

"I have a million things to do to get the shed ready for Mom and Dad to have their little talk in there, and I just don't know where to begin."

"Oh…" Van thought for a moment, then suggested, "Maybe you should write it all down."

"I did; Barbara Jean has the list and I can't get it until 11."

"Oh. Well, honey just don't worry about it until then, you still have a couple of hours. Right now just relax."

So at a little after 11, Cheyenne and Van snuck over to Barbara Jeans. Sure enough, on the counter was the list. Cheyenne snatched it, and she and Van went to the store for what they didn't have.

"We're back!" she said as they came through the door.

Jake, who was downstairs with Kyra and Elizabeth, asked, "Cheyenne, what does hook up mean?"

"Uh…why do you ask, Jake?" Cheyenne asked nervously.

"Kyra says that your trying to hook-up Mom and Dad. What's it mean?"

"Kyra!" Cheyenne yelled. "You told Jake?"

"Well, c'mon, you think he wasn't gonna notice if both of his parents just disappear for the night?" Kyra rolled her eyes. "The boy deserves the truth. A warped version, of course, but the truth."

Van and Cheyenne exchanged a 'Where does she get this trouble-making attitude?' look, before she said to Jake, "We're trying to get Mom and Dad back together again, but don't say anything, okay?"

"Like 'The Parent Trap'?" he asked.

"…Yeeeeeah, something like that."

"Okay." He started up the stairs, before turning around. "Does that make Barbara Jean Meredith, or is she Vicky?"

"Neither, she's just Barbara Jean!" Van insisted. When Jake had disappeared, he asked, "What the heck, Meredith and Vicky, who are they?"

"Didn't you ever see either 'Parent Trap'?" Kyra rolled her eyes again.

"What's that?"

­­­­­­­­

"Oh, Barbara Jean this was so fun, I can't believe we hadn't done all that Brock-gossip years ago!" Reba laughed as they reentered Barbara Jeans house.

"I know, can you believe it?" Barbara Jean agreed, giggling. "If I'd known that stuff about Brock before, I probably wouldn't be able to live with him."

"You couldn't live with him anyway," Reba reminded her, rolling her eyes. Barbara Jean couldn't help but see her step-daughter echoing in that eye-roll, and smiled. She would miss having Kyra around, but at least she and Reba were closer.

"I guess not. But neither could-" Just in time, Barbara Jeans cell phone rang. She held up one finger and flipped it open. "Cheyenne, what's up?"

"WHATS UP?" Cheyenne repeated/shrieked from the other end.

"Cheyenne!! Shh! _**People**_can hear you from this end…!" Barbara Jean hinted, glancing at Reba, who had jumped at the sound of her eldest daughters big voice coming from such a small device.

"Well, I'm sorry, Barbara Jean!" Cheyenne wickedly hissed, so quietly that Barbara Jean was surprised her damaged ear-drums could still comprehend anything she said next. "But everything's all set up, and I'd like to discuss a few more plans before we execute our plan!"

"Not now, just deal on your own! Sheesh, relax!"

Cheyenne huffed. "Fine, but its five thirty, I want you and Mom here at six- you here me – SIX!" she yelled, and hung up.

"What's the matter with her?" Reba asked as Barbara Jean snapped her phone in half again.

"What? Oh, um, Cheyenne wanted to know if we had any Midol…you know her and her menstrual-mood swings," Barbara Jean fibbed.

"Why was she screaming 'six'?" Reba asked suspiciously.

"Six? No, she didn't say six, she said…sex! Yeah, she wants to have sex, but she's on…look, lets go do our mani-pedis!" Barbara Jean had started to blush and grabbed Rebas hand before she could question her any more.

Meanwhile, Brock, who had spent the day working out, was driving over to Rebas house. He wasn't sure how she would act around him. He supposed that maybe it was reckless how fast he wanted things to move, but he couldn't help himself.

Pulling in the drive, Brock saw Cheyenne yelling into her cell phone.

"…SIX!" she screamed, then hung up.

"Cheyenne?" Brock said, walking up the walkway to the porch.

Cheyenne blushed. "Oh, hey…Dad..!"

"What was that yelling about, six what?" he asked.

Cheyenne racked her brains, deciding on the first thing he wouldn't question any further. "Midol. I need six Midol. Mom's out and Barbara Jean's the only one-"

"Okay, okay!" Brock felt himself blushing as well, not wanting to go any deeper into this subject with his daughter. "I believe you! Is Van home, I wanna see if he'll go golfing next weekend."

"Yeah, right in there," Cheyenne pointed at the door, and Brock hurried inside. Once the door was closed she opened her phone again and hastily dialed Barbara Jean's number again.

"Barbara Jean? He's here – it's time!"


	7. Lies and Truth

_Chapter Seven_

_Brock, who had spent the day working out, was driving over to Rebas house. He wasn't sure how she would act around him. He supposed that maybe it was reckless how fast he wanted things to move, but he couldn't help himself._

_Pulling in the drive, Brock saw Cheyenne yelling into her cell phone._

_"…SIX!" she screamed, then hung up._

_"Cheyenne?" Brock said, walking up the walkway to the porch._

_Cheyenne blushed. "Oh, hey…Dad..!"_

_"What was that yelling about, six what?" he asked._

_Cheyenne racked her brains, deciding on the first thing he wouldn't question any further. "Midol. I need six Midol. Mom's out and Barbara Jean's the only one-"_

_"Okay, okay!" Brock felt himself blushing as well, not wanting to go any deeper into this subject with his daughter. "I believe you! Is Van home, I wanna see if he'll go golfing next weekend."_

_"Yeah, right in there," Cheyenne pointed at the door, and Brock hurried inside. Once the door was closed she opened her phone again and hastily dialed Barbara Jean's number again._

_"Barbara Jean? He's here – it's time!"_

Chapter Seven

"Barbara Jean, you are getting nail polish all over my arm!" Reba complained as her friend pulled her down the stairs.

"I am sorry, Reba, but Cheyenne needs us! She can't go through this alone."

"For pity's sake, Barbara Jean, it's a broken shoe, she can buy a new one!"

"It's your shoe, one of the fake Gucci ones!" Barbara Jean expanded her weak fib.

"It's still just a - MY GUCCI SHOE? SHE'S DEAD. SHE CAN JUST GO OUT AND BUY ME REAL GUCCI SHOES – I HAVEN'T HAD THEM FOR TWO DAYS AND SHE HAS TO GO AND…."

"Hold that feeling," Barbara Jean smiled sneakily and they were out.

Reba charged over to her house, Barbara Jean running to keep up. She felt bad about not helping out as much as she could have; she'd had too much fun doing it, so distracting Reba hadn't felt like work at all.

"Um, when I talked to her, she was in the shed…!" she lied, panting. Yes, perfect. If she got Reba in the shed for Cheyenne, she'd feel like she'd been helpful.

"The shed? What the heck is she doin' in there?" Reba asked, slowing her pace.

"Hiding." It was all Barbara Jean could come up with, but it did the trick. Reba doubled her pace, breaking into a sprint. Barbara Jean just gave up right there and slowed to a walk. She watched until Reba had disappeared into the backyard, by which time she was a few feet from the driveway.

"Barbara Jean, where's mom?"

Cheyenne was on the porch, waiting. She raised her arms in question, and looked at her step-mom expectantly.

"I told her that you were hiding in the shed," Barbara Jean smiled proudly.

"What? Barbara Jean, Dad's already in there!"

It took a split second, in which they exchanged a panicked look, before they knew what to do. They made a break for the shed, right when it was starting to open…

Barbara Jean slammed herself against it, and Cheyenne latched it. They heard Reba yelling, "WHAT THE HELL, OPEN UP!" while the door was violently hit from the other side.

Too scared to stop for high fives at their victory, Barbara Jean and Cheyenne ran away from the shed like cats from a dog pound and were inside in three seconds. Panting, they finally gave each other "WE DID IT!" grins, and double-high fived.

"She is gonna kill us when she gets out.."

* * *

"Brock?" Reba couldn't believe her bad luck. After lunch, she'd not spared Brock a thought. Now, with the thought of the first pair of high heels she'd actually liked (they were kitten heels, you see; balance much easier kept) in need of repair, anger met fear. Anger always wins.

"Hey, Reba," Brock said, somewhat casually. "How'd she get you in here?"

It was then that she realized that the shed was much different than how she remembered it. Someone had been in here to decorate for just such an occasion: A cream colored curtain was drawn around the front of the shelves, and Brock was sitting on red cushions across the room. The floor was covered in a thick, white blanket, half of which was covered by red cushions, starting at the middle. At the entrance was a small table, covered in a red tablecloth, where three different-sized beige, flickering candles stood, along with a bottle of champagne in a bucket of ice and two wine glasses. Flower petals were scattered around upon the tabletop.

"Oh, no," Reba breathed.

"I know," Brock agreed. "Should we get out of here?"

"No! I'm getting out of here! Then I'm gonna kill Barbara Jean for doing this! Then I'm gonna kill Cheyenne for breaking my shoes! Then I'm gonna kill you for planning this on _my _napkin!"

Reba had put the wrong two and two together, because she was remembering the list she'd found at Barbara Jean's earlier. The only reason everyone was saved was because when she turned and started opening the door, it was pushed back against the frame. Reba jumped, but before she could collect herself again, she heard the sound of a latch being slid into place, and footsteps hurrying across the yard, away from the shed.

"WHAT THE HELL, OPEN UP!" Reba yelled.

"I've tried, Reba, they're relentless. But hey, champange?"

"Brock, will you shut up, this is lower than low!" Reba snapped.

"Well it's not as though _I _planned it!" Brock defended himself.

"Oh, please, it was all on that napkin that you left on the counter today – the shed, the candles, the curtains, I recognized it! And then you pulled Barbara Jean and Cheyenne into it – how could you pull a stunt like this right after your second divorce, Brock?"

"Whoa, whoa, wait – I don't know what napkin it was you saw, but it wasn't mine!" Brock said, standing up to face her.

Reba folded her arms. She didn't believe him for one second. "Brock, it was one of my napkins, sitting there on Barbara Jeans counter, with your handwriting all over it, now what do you think-"

"Okay, Reba…" Brock was desperately trying to understand and stay alive simultaneously. It wasn't very easy. "That makes sense that it would be mine, but…I have proof. One; Barbara Jean stole a big pack of your napkins awhile ago when you weren't home. Two: Just because it looked like my writing didn't mean it _was_ mine; all the kids write just like me!"

"All right, let's just say that all that bull matters. Then what did you write on the napkin, if not this?" She still didn't believe him.

Brock sighed, cornered, then pulled a crumpled up napkin from his pocket. "It's right here, but-"

She didn't let him finish; she just ripped the napkin from his hand. Uncrumpling (according to the dictionary on here that's not a word, but I like it and it works.) it, she saw in his familiar chicken-scratch a list:

_-Hotel hot tub_

_-Finding the ring in the corn field (after finding the ring)_

_-First "I love you"_

_-Every "I love you"_

_-First party when we were dating – no one took their eyes off of her_

_-Last party when we were married – no one took their eyes off of her_

_-Honeymoon when we got tangled up in our kite on the beach_

_-Each time finding out she was pregnant_

_-First kiss_

_-Every kiss_

Reba, who had read all this by the dim light of the flickering candles, could make no sense of his strange list. She was quite sure it had something to do with her, not Barbara Jean, because of the "Each time finding out she was pregnant"; Barbara Jean had only been pregnant once. Also, she could identify some of these as happening before – the hot tub, the kite on the beach, the corn field….

"What is this?" she finally asked.

"Memories, from our marriage. The happy ones. I wasn't even close to being done, you know, but yesterday went by pretty fast."

Reba kept staring at the list. "Why did you make it?"

"Well, I thought that if I put together enough memories you might find a reason…to give me a chance."

Her eyes flashed as she met his. "Why should I, Brock? After what you've done to me it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter if I love you or not, there's no way I'm going back!"

She really didn't feel that way, but she wanted to get his attention. As much as she wanted him, she needed him to fight for her, to at least try and not give up when things just looked a little difficult. She wouldn't put herself through the kind of pain divorce brought; how lonely you felt after your soulmate just changed their mind was something you could not repeat.

Brock felt a stalactite being shoved into his heart at those words, but he didn't look away from those blue eyes. He knew her too well, and though her eyes looked as fierce as fire to anyone else, he could see the effort behind those heartless words.

"Reba I wish you wouldn't say that. I know you don't mean it…I know what you really mean." Okay, he knew he sounded like a cliche, and a jerk (c'mon, it's Brock under pressure, whatdya expect?)

" 'What I really mean'? Oh, please!" Reba scoffed, folding her arms across her chest, forgetting the list was still in her tight clutches, but her heart was thumping so madly she was sure he could hear it, if not see it in the dull light. "And what exactly would that be?"

"You know I don't deserve you, so you want me to feel some kind of…pain. You want it to hurt a little, winning you back. That's okay…that just means the bigger fight you put up the more I can show how much this means to me." Never having dug that deep before, Brock was surprised at the workds coming from him. But he knew Reba, and he knew they were true.

Reba was speechless. She bit her lip to keep her jaw from dropping, not breaking the gaze.

"How'd I do?" Brock asked quietly.

"Not bad," she admitted. "Very good, actually."

There was an awkward silence while both of them waited for their pulses to slow to normal. Rebas mind was buzzing with conflicting thoughts, emotions, but she knew it was only a matter of time before she had to let them out.

Brock felt a ripple of relief spreading through the confusion of his thoughts. She wasn't doing this because she didn't love him, but because she wanted him to take it seriously. He was beginning to feel grateful for this opportunity to talk, to show her that, given the chance, there was no way he would let things fall apart.

"You know…now wouldn't be a bad time to get some talking done, I guess," Reba admitted, handing him the list. Brock nodded and gestured to the cushions, and they both strode to the wall and sat.

There was another brief silence, then Brock asked, "You want to go first?"

She shrugged. "Um…I guess." She took a deep breath and looked away for a moment, wondering where to start. Finally she began:

"After we separated, I began to think…a lot…about our relationship as a whole, each individual part. I started with you. I decided that you truly loved me as much as I loved you, but we'd changed to much. So we'd need to get to know each other all over again, in a way…but you never came to the counseling sessions…."

She broke off and gave him a quizzical look. "Why didn't you come?"

Brock gave a slightly teasing smile. "No way. Not until my turn – this is yours."

Defeated, Reba continued, "So, there was no way for me to still know you anymore. When I filed for divorce I decided it didn't matter and that I could move on and forget about you. If it had ended so badly, I figured it must be meant to be."

She felt each past emotion travel its taken course again as it was said. As long as she kept talking, it kept her mind off of the pain.

"So I tried to make you see what it meant to me that we work it out. That's why I got the tattoo…I was trying to convince myself just as much that things were going to work. But I couldn't bare the humiliation when I found out the Barbara Jean was pregnant, and I went on the depression pills. That made me think that I was all right…after I was off of them I realized I wasn't, but there also wasn't anything I could do about it. So I just went along with my little masquerade.

But nothings changed. I still feel the same." She let a silence carry out for two full seconds before saying quickly, "Okay, your turn."

Brock smiled a little. "After the separation I couldn't stop myself from thinking about how much of it was all my fault. I tried everything to get my mind off of it…that's why I didn't come to the counseling sessions. I thought I'd just…make things worse. I tried drinking, smoking again, then…"

"Barbara Jean." Reba finished his sentence for him.

"Yeah," he glanced down, ashamed. "I never told you this, but when we found out she was pregnant, Barbara Jean told me that I could leave; that she would be perfectly all right raising the child alone. So I almost left her and stayed with you…but you seemed so much more…independent, changed."

"Stupid happy pills," Reba glared into space.

"Yeah," Brock chuckled a little. "So…I decided you didn't need me anymore. I couldn't bear it; it hurt like hell."

"I'm sorry," Reba whispered.

Brock started; he hadn't meant to make her feel bad. "Reba, I didn't mean it like that! It's not your fault I got another woman pregnant, I handled things wrong, you didn't do anything."

She just shrugged and nodded a little, but deep down she knew that he was right; her survival didn't depend on him.

But her happiness did.

"So," Reba interrupted the umpteenth silence that evening alone, looking around for a distraction. "Champagne?"

**_Sorry it took so long to update, folks!! And I'm not sure how great I ended this chapter. I wasn't going to include the explanations and was just gonna leave y'all hangin', but thought that after the long wait y'all deserved better. Again, my apologies, I was on vacation, and had a million things to do, four of which still hurt (Cavities suck)_**


	8. Another Try, Til You Love Me

Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

"Cheyenne, where's Mom?" Jake asked, thumping down the stairs to find Van, Cheyenne, Kyra and Barbara Jean all sitting in the living room. "I haven't seen her all day."

"Oh, we put her and your Dad in the shed," Barbara Jean said, with the air of one commenting on the cat, Cheyenne nodding along.

Kyra looked up from the book she was reading and added, "Don't worry, they made sure to give them food and water."

Jake stared at his perfectly calm, cool and collected family, shook his head, and joined them. "Van, can _you _tell me the truth?"

Van put down is football binder. "What? Oh, about your parents? They're in the shed."

"Oh, is this the whole 'hooking up' thing?" Jake rolled his eyes.

"Well said, young grasshopper." Van went back to work, as everyone else lapsed into thought as to what was going on in the shed.

"So…now what?" Reba asked, pouring Brock and herself a glass of champagne.

Brock shrugged, accepting the glass. "Anything else you'd like to talk about?"

She pondered this, sipping from the glass. "Yeah, there is." She looked up at him seriously. "I think this should be taken very slow."

"How slow?"

"Brock, you have a bit of a tendency to rush and run. I know you say you still have those same feelings for me, but I can't take it seriously. Not yet." She held up her hand as he started to protest. "I've been through enough hurt, Brock. The last thing I want to do is get my hopes up if such a thing isn't true. So, this time, you_ must _try harder."

"I will – I promise! I'll do anything I can. But…please…" he trailed off. Reba raised her eyebrows.

"What?"

"Don't keep me away…I couldn't bear being away from you."

"Brock, do you honestly think I would like that any more than you would?"

"Thanks," Brock replied gratefully. "So…when you say try harder..?"

"I mean couples therapy – I mean you and me really opening up and talking – not just at his office. And you being completely, 100 honest with me and our therapist. Because I will be."

"I promise."

She gave him a quizzical look. "It won't be as easy as it sounds, Brock. You have to prove you've changed - you sure this is what you want to do?"

Brock shook his head, laughing a little at her concern. "Reba, you really don't believe that I love you?"

Reba bit her lip, and her eyes flickered down, then back up into his. "Not yet."

Meanwhile, inside, all was silent. Everyone was consumed in deep thought…I think you can guess whose are whose, for those I put no label on.

What could be going on, I wonder? Maybe we should have waited…maybe I should have given Dad just a couple more days…gosh, maybe Kyra's right – if it hurts to think, you shouldn't do it. But you know what, Dad can calm Mom down…OH WHAT AM I THINKING he can't! She'll be mad…and she'll kill me! And why did Barbara Jean have to tell her that I broke her shoe? That is so stupid, and she's gonna kill me so I'll get absolutely NO CREDIT for that not being true! Am I biting my nails…? No, this is bad! My manicure is totally ruined! And its too late in the afternoon, no place in town is gonna be open, this is just grand…!

What's the matter with Cheyenne? She's biting her nails for the first time since our first date. Maybe she's hungry…I know I am. I'm always hungry…maybe she'll make me a sandwich. That sounds good…but she never puts enough salami on it…

_Van looks frustrated…he probably thinks this is a bad idea, too! What the hell was I thinking, putting my parents back together like this? Well, I shouldn't be the only one he's mad at, I mean it was half Barbara Jean's idea, anyway! _Cheyenne crossed her arms to keep herself from biting her nails anymore.

H,a ha, Van's having conflicting thoughts again. But, he's a man, of course…his head's most likely filled with thoughts of women and sandwiches. Hmm…I'm bored. Mom and Dad probably are, too…I hope they are. If not, I don't wanna know what's going on out there. Actually, scratch that; Mom's proper, so I'd totally dig being a fly on the wall in there. Oh, poor Cheyenne…ruining her precious manicure. So…I haven't heard from the guys in awhile, hope they aren't mad that I canceled practice. Nah, they understand that I still don't know what I'm gonna do …I know I'm supposed to go with Mom or Dad, I just hope there's no deadline. God, divorce sucks…

I know what I was thinking. Mom and Dad love each other…they need each other. So they should be back together. I only hope they can know that themselves, at least enough to talk. If there's a God in heaven they'll talk…and I'll live to hear about it!

It's boring down here. Right about now, Mom would usually be either playing Go-Fish with me or I'd be killing her at video games. Or Dad and I would be bowling. I should have Mom come with us sometime, then I'd actually beat somebody for a change. I wish Henry would wake up…"love children" sure make good little brothers. Plus he hit Elizabeth that one time…he shouldn't have got into trouble; serves her right for breaking my new action figure.

Is the phone ringing? Nope. Stupid head injury. So I wonder if Cheyenne would kill me if I took a peak out our captives…I could try! Uh-oh…just thought of a little something we forgot..!

"What…you don't think I love you? But Reba, I do, I swear!" Brock was begging, but Reba just shook her head.

"Brock, you…have emotional problems. And as much as I want to believe it, I just can't accept it with your current track record."

"Reba, don't you trust-" he began, but she cut him off.

"It's going to take time, Brock," she said slowly and firmly. "Show me that even if things got rough, you wouldn't run away again."

Brock nodded, defeated. He knew he wouldn't run, but of course she wouldn't take his word for it. "Okay." They went back to their cushions, starting to get a little bored.

Something occurred to Reba and it made her laugh out loud. Brock stared at her and started to laugh as well just at the look on her face.

"What? Reba, what?" he asked as she started to calm down.

"I was just thinking…it's a good thing I went to the bathroom when Barbara Jean and I were still at the restaurant!"

As stupid and random as this was, Brock had to laugh as well. Pretty soon they just couldn't stop laughing and were perfectly comfortable.

Maybe it was just one of those moments you have when you're tired, bored but with your best friend so everything is going to be very funny.

Or maybe it was the champagne.

"You know what this reminds me of?" Brock asked. "That one summer when you and I were camping and we couldn't get our tent to open. No one was around so they couldn't get it from the outside so we just hung out inside that tent for hours."

Reba, who had buried her face into his shoulder laughing at the memory, came up for air and reminded him, "Do you remember how hungry we were – then I found that chocolate in my purse and we kept fighting over it?"

As they remembered the silly things they had said in anger to each other, it became harder to stop laughing. Reba could still hear herself saying, "Oh, sure, take the chocolate! It's because you think I'm fat and I shouldn't have it! Well I think **you're** fat! FAT, FAT, FAT!"

"You know what I just thought of– Van and Cheyenne are a lot like we were. I mean, we fought about stupid things, you were always accusing me…" Brock realized.

"Yeah, and my mamma used to always slap you upside the head," Reba giggled. Brock flashed her what should have been a glare but it was really just a teasing grin as he unconsciously put his arm around her.

"Plus, we were a little dumb," Brock added.

"We?" Reba repeated, raising her eyebrows.

He shrugged. "Okay, I was a little dumb – I smoked, did drugs, drank a lot. Guess you were the smart one."

"Yeah…what did I see in you?" Reba teased. "C'mon, Brock, you know I'm kidding," she added when he looked a little hurt. "And I wasn't all that smart, you know…a lot of things you had to talk me out of."

"Oh, yeah, like what?"

"Oh, c'mon, don't you remember that time I was actually gonna buy a '63 Chevy Nova? Man, I loved that thing!" she added dreamily.

"Oh, I remember that! Then I stalled you, we went down there, and there was a cat tail stuck in the exhaust pipe."

Reba shivered, sipping her champagne. "Anyway, I'm glad you helped me out of that one."

Brock was somewhat surprised; she didn't usually bring up these flecks of goodness scattered across his life. They were mostly living in the shadows of mistakes he'd made.

The door slammed open. Reba screamed and Brock jumped, shielding his eyes from the sunset that was now pouring from the door.

"Barbara Jean, not all the way, they could get out!" Cheyenne's voice sounded from behind the woman standing there, who they now knew to be Barbara Jean. She abruptly closed the door until it was a little more than ajar, and poked her blonde head through.

"Hey, we realized something – do either of you have to go to the bathroom?"

Remembering what Reba had mentioned earlier, Brock and Reba only laughed harder than ever.

Hearing the sounds of mirth coming from inside, Cheyenne curiously peeked in underneath Barbara Jeans head. "What's so funny?' she whispered to her step mom.

"I don't know…hey, you two, what's the answer?" she asked.

"Yeah, cause we have chains to pull you with just in case," Cheyenne assured them.

"Cheyenne, can't we just come out now, I think we've talked enough," Brock said.

"Oh, yeah, sure. I don't think so! Are you back together yet?" she asked expectantly.

"What do you mean by 'together', exactly?"

"You're not coming out yet!" Cheyenne started to shut the door.

"Wait!" They paused, blonde eyebrows raised expectantly. "We've agreed to try again. We'll make it work this time."

"YES!" Cheyenne and Barbara Jean screamed so loud it echoed in the shed. Reba covered her ears but giggled all the same. She and Brock smiled, amused, at each other as the two blondes starting hugging around yelling "WE DID IT! WE DID IT – THEY'RE TOGETHER!"

"Can we come out, then?" Brock asked, having to yell over the two.

"What?" Cheyenne wiped a tear from her eye. "Oh, yeah, okay – come on!" She and Barbara Jean positively dragged Brock and Reba to the door.

"Grab the champagne; we're gonna celebrate!" she blew out the candles and corked the bottle of champagne, then was dragged out.

Needless to say, Reba stopped Cheyenne and Barbara Jean before they went in the house and cried the news. "Look, I'm as hopeful as you two are, but I don't wanna get all wild and crazy with this."

"Why?" Cheyenne and Barbara Jean asked in unison.

"Because!" Reba sighed, exasperated. She wished they could just understand. "Brock?"

"Reba doesn't want us to move to fast or expectantly, and I get that. We can't expect things to work out smoothly just because we want it to. This'll be hard, especially with her temper and my….self. Don't get me wrong, we're going to be in this together 100 - I'm not going to make the same mistakes, but…"

"We get it, Dad." Cheyenne and Barbara Jean exchanged a disappointed, defeated glance. "No champagne." She snatched it from Reba and added, "And it doesn't look like you need any – your eyes are all twinkle-y."

They headed inside, through the kitchen and into the living room. No one looked up at first, just continued to watch the movie (Van and Jake) or read their book (Kyra). Hearing footsteps, Van asked, not tearing his gaze from the screen, "How were the hostages – did they need a potty break?"

"No, we didn't," Brock answered him. Now everyone looked up and gaped.

"They escaped – quick before the female attacks!" Van yelled and jumped off the couch, crouching in front of it.

Kyra stood up and put her book down. "So, how'd it go Mom?"

"See you in the morning, then?" Reba asked Brock once he got to the door, ignoring her daughter.

"Yeah, coming with me, Jake?" he asked his son, who nodded and said he would be upstairs packing a bag.

"Be quick!" his Dad called.

"Mr. H, how'd it go?" Van asked, crawling to the end of the couch, still trying to hide .

"I'll come back at around nine tomorrow, okay?" Brock said to Reba, who pulled him in for a close hug and peck on the lips.

"Whoa – what was that?" Cheyenne's eyebrows shot up at this sudden move, just like everyone else's.

"Did Mom just kiss DAD!?" Jake, who no one had noticed come down the stairs.

"C'mon, buddy." Brock pulled Jake in with one arm, and they were gone. Reba started for the stairs. She would have made it if eight hands hadn't grabbed her arms and dragged her onto the couch.

"Mom – what happened to 'taking things slow'?" Cheyenne demanded.

"That was slow – he's going home isn't he?" Reba reminded her, shocked by the reaction of her crazy family. "What's wrong with you guys?"

"You just kissed him! And they call me a flirt!" Barbara Jean huffed, folding her arms across her chest crossly.

Reba tilted her head cutely to one side, then it came back to her. She really hadn't realized she had done it, but now she could remember. She covered her mouth without thinking.

"Aww, she's bluuushing!" Van cooed.

"This is starting to get way disturbing," Kyra commented, making a sick face.

"Okay, so exactly what happened out there?" Cheyenne, sitting next to her mother, asked, pulling her hand away from her mouth.

Reba wanted to get up and leave, but before she knew it, everyone had taken seats and was staring at her expectantly, not breathing, eyes wide. Ever Kyra, arms folded, had raised her eyebrows a tad in interest.

Knowing there was no way she could get out of it, Reba settled with, "We talked."

"Psh, well, no kidding! Deeper, details please!" Barbara Jean pushed.

"No!" Reba said stubbornly, folding her arms across her chest.

"Mom, if it weren't for Barbara Jean and I, this never would have taken place!" Cheyenne pointed out smugly. "So, I think we deserve a few descriptive passages!"

Trapped, Reba was about to bend to their will when the door burst open and Jake pounded in. "I didn't get a hug, Mom."

Glad that her little boy wasn't too big for hugs, Reba stood and hurried to him. After they broke apart, he left again. Before anyone else could stop her, Reba was up the stairs and had escaped. By the time they had reached the top of the stairs, they could hear her bedroom door being locked.

"All right, I say we break the door down!" Barbara Jean hissed. "Ready, Van?"

"Barbara Jean- no!" Cheyenne stopped them. "We'll get it out of Dad tomorrow."

"Oh, but…I don't wanna wait!" Barbara Jean whined.

"Do you honestly think she'll tell us? C'mon, we'll get even with her this way." Cheyenne cocked her eyebrows mischievously.

**Not extremely inspired, I'm afraid. I'm suffering from inspiration withdrawal. The next chapter will be the last, if all turns out well. Reviewers – thanks for sticking with me, it's been immense!! **


	9. Worth it for Blackmail

Chapter Nine

**So this is not the end…I have at least one more chapter after this!! **

Chapter Nine

Reba was exhausted. It had been such a spontaneous, unexpected day and all she wanted to do was flop onto bed and sleep for a hundred years. She was happy for everything that had taken place; between quality time with Barbara Jean, heart to hearts with Brock, all ending with running to her room away from her crazy family…well, some things just have to be done.

Her heavy eyelids were about to close and take her to sweet dreams when she heard a buzzing from her bedside table. Looking up, she saw it was her cell phone vibrating with a text message.

_Sweet dreams. I love you. _

She smiled and replied. _You better. Good night._

_  
_The next morning, Reba woke up to the smell of syrup and butter spread over warm pancakes. Right away, she realized something was fishy: She was the cook…wasn't she? Groggy and hungry, she made her way downstairs.

"Brock?" Reba recognized the head standing by the stove, flipping pancakes. Van, Cheyenne and Elizabeth and Jake were sitting at the table, while Barbara Jean and Kyra were eating at the island.

"Morning, Reba!" he said cheerily. "I decided to come over and make breakfast."

"Oh, that was nice of you, thanks!" she smiled, then heard a 'Humph!' from Cheyenne and Barbara Jean. Confused, she asked her eldest daughter, "What was that for?"

"What?" Cheyenne snapped, not tearing her eyes from the newspaper. "I didn't do anything."

"Don't listen to them, Mrs. H, they're just sulky because Mr. H didn't fill them in on last night." Cheyenne slapped Van with the paper. "Geez, Cheyenne, get over it! And since when do you read the paper?"

Kyra heard opportunity knock and said, "Since the latest headlines that she can read."

Reba shook her head, laughing, then sat down between Van and Elizabeth. "Y'all really crack me up, ya know that?"

"I don't see what's so funny," Barbara Jean sniffed.

Brock rolled his eyes on his way to the table. "If you guys really wanted to know what was going to happen, why didn't you just stick a camera in there and tape the whole thing? Be better than bugging the living daylights out of us." He set the pancakes on the table and placed the biggest one on Rebas plate.

"We didn't want to invade your privacy!" Everyone but Barbara Jean gave Cheyenne an 'are you kidding?' look.

"Then what are you doing now?"

"Claiming what is mine!" she slammed her palm on the table. She winced as the sudden hit made her hand tingle all over, and shook it a little. "Whoa, what was that for?" she yelled suddenly, seeing Reba pull Brock into another kiss.

"That's two times Mrs. H has kissed Mr. H!" Van announced. "I repeat – two times!"

Breaking away from Brock, Reba held up her pancake against her palm. "Look, isn't that sweet?" Everyone leaned in to see a ring of chocolate chips forming a big heart on her pancake.

When breakfast was over Reba got dressed and went to work. Brock was about to head to work himself when Cheyenne followed him to the living room.

"Daddy, do want to come to lunch with Van and I?" she asked sweetly.

"I thought you were mad at me." He raised his eyebrows suspiciously.

"Well, you made up for it, you made us breakfast!" she reminded him in a voice coated with sugar and honey. "Wanna meet us at Outback Steakhouse?"

Outback? Brocks mouth watered just at the thought. That was his absolute favorite place for steak and Hefeweizen. But he knew that it wasn't exactly a place for a quick lunch. "That'd be a long lunch break…"he grimaced.

"You deserve it, please, Daddy? Van is so boring lately," she added in an undertone.

Brock chuckled and agreed, "Okay, hun, I guess I should be spending more time with the two of you - especially since today's the last day Van has in Houston for the week. That was sure nice of them to give him a three day weekend, wasn't it?"

"Not really…see his apartment complex is expecting some really nice guests and they wanted to keep football players away for awhile so they bribed the coach." She shrugged and kissed his cheek. "See you at 1:00, Daddy!"

At 1:00 Brock was walking into a sea of sweet aroma of thick, juicy steak. His mouth watered as waiters passed with trays of piping hot, sizzling meat, and that was actually how he found Van and Cheyenne; stalking a waiter. He only came to when he heard, "Daddy?"

He jumped and looked around. She was waving to him two tables away. Quickly he maneuvered his way between customers to where she sat with Van, Barbara Jean, and Kyra.

Barbara Jean and Kyra? They hadn't been on the guest list before.

Brock smiled just the same and sat with them. "Hey, I didn't expect all of you here."

"Eighty bucks is eighty bucks," Kyra said from behind a large menu.

Her father pulled a questioning face at his daughter, son-in-law and ex-wife. "You bribed Kyra to go to lunch with you – as in, you wanted her here?"

Kyra shrugged, still scanning the list of salads. "It's a conspiracy. Kind of like the Mafia…they even pay pretty well."

Cheyenne scowled at her sister. "Shut up, Kyra!"

Brock was utterly confused by now, but he could smell a rat. "What's going on?" he sighed finally.

"Brock, you are so suspicious!" Barbara Jean accused. "We aren't planning anything, we just wanted to have lunch with you."

"Ha, ha!" Van snorted. Cheyenne and Barbara Jean slapped each arm. Kyra stuck out a thumbs-down.

"What is going-" Brock began, but he was cut off by a waiter holding a pad and pen.

"Hey, I'm Ashton and I'll be your server. Can I start you off with something to drink?"

After ordering, Cheyenne whispered into Barbara Jeans ear, "Wait until after the steak is served and he's eaten a little."

Van, who was talking to Brock about random guy stuff, wasn't about to break that happy conversation for any bribe, so there was no need for her to pass the message to him. Kyra had shoved ear buds in and was blaring her "devil music". At first this didn't bother her father; he was used to this behavior. But after fifteen minutes when he couldn't zone out the screaming and rock n roll faintly issuing from his right, he tapped her lightly. She removed the bud politely and misinterpreted his gesture by handing it to him.

Deciding he had nothing to lose, Brock held the bud close to his ear and recognized the tune easily. Surprise echoed in his next words. "No way, you're into Janis Joplin?"

"Oh, Kyra!" Barbara Jean sighed in dismay. "Didn't I tell you to stop listen to that demon?"

"No – Barbara Jean, it's 'Piece of My Heart'!" he protested with a grin from ear to ear. "You know where I was when this song came out? It was in '67, I was in the ninth grade – me and some buddies were sneaking beer down to the lake, we were piled in one of the older guys trucks, and this song came on-"

"Okay, it's bad enough you approve of this heathen that wasted her lungs screaming and smoking!" she fumed. "Now you're teaching Kyra to sneak off and get wasted?"

"Don't listen to her, Dad, she don't understand," Kyra pressed eagerly.

Barbara Jean was about to retort when Cheyenne laid a hand on her arm. "Calm down," she whispered. "Don't you wanna get this information?"

"Yup, let-it-go, Barbara Jean," Van, who now had Kyra's other ear bud, agreed with a grin like Brocks plastered across his face. "Man, this Dan guy can really put together a song, huh?'

"It's _Janis_, Van, not Dan!" Kyra rolled her eyes, insulted. Brock mirrored her offended expression just as the food was brought over.

While they all settled in and began to eat, Cheyenne exchanged a significant glance with Barbara Jean and started, "Did they make your steak okay, Daddy?" She ignored a scoff from Kyra, who thought she sounded like the daughter of a king, not a dentist.

"Oh, yeah – yours?" Brock replied, washing down a large bite with a huge gulp of his beer (A/N: Normally I would name the brand but since I'm underage I don't want anyone thinking I drink. Plus I don't know what brands they have at Outback).

"It's delicious!" Cheyenne agreed. "Just as good as breakfast this morning – that was so sweet of you to come over and cook."

"It was nothing," Brock assured her. "That'll be happening a lot more often with your Mom and I getting back together soon."

"Hey, about that…" Cheyenne set down her fork and nudged Barbara Jean, who imitated the gesture. "Look, Daddy, we were really hoping you'd tell us about the shed."

Now he thought he might understand this. Sighing exasperatedly, he said, "Cheyenne, that's between your Mother and I, how often will we have to do this?"

"This could be the last time!" Barbara Jean grinned. "What if we made an exchange?"

"Come again?"

Cheyenne leaned in, as did everyone else. "If you promised to fill us in afterwards, we would be willing to give you a deep, dark detail about Mom. Interested?"

"That's probably her business, so…duh, I'm interested. But, no."

"It's her business, Brock," Barbara Jean agreed. "But it has to do with a certain person at this table…"

Brock had a brain freeze….or a Van moment. Thinking back slowly, his eyes widened and he leaned in. "No way, did she really sleep with Van after he got drunk with his buddies?"

Kyra spit out the gulp of soda she was drinking; Van scowled and folded his arms; Cheyenne and Barbara Jean rested their foreheads in their fingertips and muttered, "Oh. My. God."

"No, Dad, it has to do with you!" Cheyenne yelled finally, causing a couple tables in the vicinity to turn their heads curiously. Once they looked away, Cheyenne hissed, "But I guess you just don't care if she…" she broke off and rested against the back of her chair, smiling slyly. "Never mind."

"Okay, okay! I'll negotiate: Let me hear this and I'll answer three questions you have about the shed completely and 100 honestly," Brock agreed.

"Promise?" Van asked suspiciously.

"Scouts honor." Brock promised.

"Okay, here it is!" Cheyenne giggled, leaning forward again. "You know how when you were getting the divorce, Barbara Jean and you totally stayed away?"

"Yeah…." How could he forget – those were hard weeks, being away from Reba.

"Okay, so after the second day, Mom started to talk to herself," Cheyenne explained quietly to increase interest. "It happened in the morning, in her sleep…then I got close enough to hear her, and I realized she wasn't talking to herself. She was talking to _you._"

Brock raised his eyebrows and his mouth fell open. "No kidding? What was she saying?"

" 'Brock, I miss you….do you remember when you went to that convention but I had to stay here for the kids? This is how I felt then. Then you came back and….that was a night to remember, huh?' 'Brock, why couldn't you just keep your head on for two minutes…where would be now?' 'Brock, its so easy to hate you, but impossible not to love you'." Cheyenne imitated her mothers accent to perfection.

"Okay, your turn." Cheyenne changed direction abruptly before Brock could do anything but glow. Remembering his side of the bargain, he prepared himself as Cheyenne began, "Question number one: Oh…uh…." She slumped. She hadn't given any thought to questions. Her plan had been to make him explain everything.

"Do-doo-do-doo-do-do-doo…" Kyra hummed _Jeopardy!,_ taking a sip of Coke.

"Oh, I know!" Barbara Jean raised her hand, lowering it quickly. "What was Rebas first reaction?"

"Well, she threatened to kill the family," Brock remembered aloud, much to the confusion of a passing waiter. "She thought I'd planned it all."

Everyone took this in, imagining Reba throwing things around, yelling, shaking her fist and declaring revenge, her red hair crackling with electricity, eyes blazing. They chuckled a little, but all hoped that the best was still yet to come. That wasn't that out of character.

"Okay, how did you decide to get back together again?" Cheyenne asked.

"We just talked about our feelings before the divorce, and why that's what it led to."

Before anyone could ask anything else, Kyra said impatiently, "Oh for heavens sake, did you vodee-oh-do on the shed floor or not?"

"Kyra!" Cheyenne and Barbara Jean exclaimed indignantly, staring shocked at her.

"Well that's all you wanted to know, admit it!" she replied coldly.

"No, we didn't." he fought back a smile. "Now I believe your questions are up."

"That's not fair – Kyra just blurted out a question!" Cheyenne complained.

"As if you all weren't doing exactly that!" Kyra pointed out.

Van, who up to this point had been more interested in his steak than the conversation, lifted his head to say, "She's right, you know."

Ignoring her husband, Cheyenne glowered at her father. "You said you'd be honest, but you totally weren't!"

"I was, I promised!" Brock argued.

"This isn't over!" she hissed menacingly at her father, rising from the table. Again, Kyra rolled her eyes – she _did_ sound like a stuck -up princess. "C'mon, Barbara Jean, Van, Kyra."

Making a 'Humph!' sound, Barbara Jean followed suit. Kyra and Van, however, looked at them as if they were crazy.

"I'm not leaving, I'm still hungry!" Van whined.

"Yeah, but you guys go ahead. Now that Cheyenne's gone I might get my appetite back." Kyra smirked.

"Fine, but you guys get to pay!" Cheyenne smirked back and left with her nose in the air, Barbara Jean in tow.

Once they were out of earshot, Brock leaned in grinning and said sarcastically, "I have to pay for Cheyenne, wow, that's new!" They all enjoyed a little chuckle.

In the parking lot, Cheyenne slammed her door shut after climbing in the drivers seat. "What are we gonna do, Barbara Jean, Dad was totally skimming over a few things, after he promised!"

"I say we blackmail it out of him." A grin split across Barbara Jeans face. "I have pictures of him that we can PhotoShop to look like he's in bed with goats…"

She considered this, but in eventually Cheyenne shook her head. Pulling out of the parking lot, she said, "I think I have a better idea. What do you think Mom would do if we told her something about Dad that would totally embarrass him…?"

"Freak out. Why?"

"If we could dig up something about Dad and tell him that we would tell Mom if he didn't tell us exactly what happened, he would spill in a flash."

"…what?"

After she heard this two more times, Barbara Jeans face lit up. "That's brilliant, Cheyenne! And I think I know what we can use for blackmail."

**Hope y'all liked this chapter!! Thanks, coffeeiv for giving me the ideas – this would have been the last chapter without your help! **


	10. It Ain't Over Til the Red Head Sings

Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

Cheyenne watched intently as Barbara Jean argued with her father over the phone. It wasn't going very well.

"Brock, I _will _tell her….don't you believe me?…Okay, fine! Watch me! And guess what, you _can't_ watch me because you can't _see_ me!…oh that's mature of you, you know, I was hoping that you'd bend to my will now that we're not married! " she hung up the phone, somewhere between triumphant and angry.

Cheyenne sighed in disappointment. "It didn't work?"

"Yes, it did! I got the best of him – _and_ the last word!"

"Yeah but we don't have the truth about the shed yet?"

Barbara Jean opened her mouth and froze, finger in the air like she was about to say something smart, then slumped. "Craap. Now what?"

Cheyenne rolled her eyes. "Lets do what we said we'd do; tell Mom!"

Cheyenne peeked in on her mother making dinner, then beckoned for Barbara Jean to follow her in casually. "Hey, Mom, what's for dinner?"

"You're talking to me?" Reba raised her eyebrows, turning the burner to low and setting a lid on the soup.

"Why wouldn't we talk to you?" Barbara Jean said, overly-innocent. "What could you do wrong?"

Reba chuckled suspiciously, turning to face them with her arms folded. "What's goin' on?"

The blondes across from her exchanged a shrug. "Well…we just thought that we'd tell you a little something…about Brock."

"Look, if its something repulsive, embarrassing or shocking, I know it. Thanks, though."

"Oh?" Cheyenne raised her eyebrows smugly. "Well, okay. I mean, he'll probably tell you when he's ready about getting his vasectomy reversed."

Rebas eyes bugged out and she leaned forward across the counter. "You are kidding me."

"No, she's not." Barbara Jean grinned mischievously. "And yeah, he's getting it reversed."

Reba blinked twice, hoping she hadn't woken up in the wrong universe. "Barbara Jean, don't joke about this – is it true?"

"Oh, yeah!" her friend nodded rapidly, not a hint of a lie there to give her away. "He told me over the phone last night when I called and interrogated him. Yeah, he says that when you two get back together he'd like to try for a baby. He wanted to tell you himself, but c'mon, serves him right for not filling us in."

At first Reba glowed at the news; then, after a moment of considering what her friend said, felt lousy. "Oh, guys, c'mon – just because you were mad at him for not telling didn't mean you had to tell something like that to me! Gosh, how do you think I'd feel if you told him something that personal about me?"

Neither one of them came up with anything to say, because they didn't want Reba to know that that's what they_ had_ done. They both looked in different directions, throwing up their shoulders.

"Hmmm." Cheyenne agreed.

"Psh, whatever!" Barbara Jean muttered.

Reba noticed their guilty behavior. Her eyebrows shot up as she covered her mouth in horror. She closed her eyes, counted to ten, then opened them. "What did you tell him?" she asked with her hand still over her mouth.

"Hmm?" Cheyenne couldn't seem to open her mouth.

"What did you tell him – about me?" Reba repeated angrily, folding her arms across her chest.

Realizing she was onto them, Barbara Jean put her lying face in place. "What. Are you _talking_ about?"

Reba mocked her expression. "What. Did you _tell_ him?"

Cheyenne bit her lip, and was about to give in out of fear when she picked up her false hope again. "If you tell us about the shed we'll tell you what we told him!"

Mistake. Reba was officially angry and pointed her finger out towards the living room. "You two have exactly six seconds. One…two…three…"

They didn't need telling twice. Cheyenne and Barbara Jean were out of there like cats running away from a vacuum.

Reba, heart pounding, picked up the phone and dialed Brocks work. She got the receptionist.

"He's not in, Mrs. Hart, he's on his way home. Actually, he said he was going to your place," she corrected herself. "I'm just here to finish some filing, then I'm on my way, too."

Almost hanging up in shock, Reba recovered, thanked the receptionist and hung up. She wasn't sure if she wanted to see Brock face to face, knowing that they both knew something they weren't supposed to know about the other. Brock had the advantage of knowing what was said about him, however, and she felt that very unfair.

She jolted out of her thoughts by the door opening and Kyra and Van walked in together. That wasn't something she usually saw, then she noticed that Van had Kyra's iPod.

"Van, your turn is up. Gimmie!" Kyra demanded.

"No, way, please! I love Van Halen!"

"Put it on Cheyenne's iPod," Kyra suggested. "Now give me the damn thing!"

"Ahem," Reba glared at her daughters language. Kyra blushed but otherwise stayed firm with her hand out expectantly.

Van huffed. "Fine," he huffed, handing it back. "But I can't put rock n roll on Cheyenne's iPod, all she likes is Rihanna and Beyonce and…"

"I feel your pain, boy," Kyra sympathized. She cast a look over at her mom and rolled her eyes. "Sorry for swearing; must have been from hanging out with Dad earlier."

"You were hanging out with your father?" Reba couldn't make sense of the sentence. First Van, now Kyra was hanging out with Brock? "Why?"

"Oh, we were all hanging out," Van blabbed casually, peeping underneath the lid at the soup, his mouth watering. "Yeah, Cheyenne, Barbara Jean, us, yeah, at lunch. We went to the Outback."

Putting two and two together, Reba spun to face her daughter. "What did your sister and Barbara Jean tell your father about me?"

"How'd you find out about that?"

"What did they say?" she repeated, desperate.

"Something about you talking to Dad in your sleep, I wasn't paying much attention," Kyra admitted.

"What – why would they do that, it's just mean!"

"So that Dad would tell them what happened in the shed."

Rebas mouth fell open. "He _told_ him? He just gave in like that?"

"Not exactly. See, he said that he'd answer three questions, then they didn't believe him because you sounded so boring. Don't worry, Mom, all we know is that you freaked out at first, you talked, and you didn't vodee-oh-do. Happy? Like I said, Cheyenne and Barbara Jean don't even believe it."

Reba wasn't sure whether or not to be glad. On one hand, he'd made sure he couldn't tell them too much; on the other, he knew that she talked to him to herself. She hadn't even known Cheyenne knew that!

"Hey, Reba."

She jumped and turned as Brock walked in, smiling a little nervously. She felt her face getting red and her heart skipping beats through its panicky rhythm.

"Hello, Brock…"

"Okay, let's go, Van." Kyra, sensing the situation tensing up, grabbing him by the arm and pulled him out to the living room.

"But…dinner!"

"GO!!"

Once alone, then tension was killing Reba. "So…" She cleared her throat.

"Yeah." Another awkward silence. Then Brock asked, looking at his nails, "So, you talk to me in your sleep?"

"You're getting your vasectomy reversed?"

"Is it true?"

"UGH, fine it is!" Reba admitted, burying her face in her hands. A moment later she felt Brock pulling her in for a hug.

"Don't be embarrassed," he pleaded. "I swear I dream about you all the time, and I'm not ashamed."

Reba felt her heart swell over and rise like a balloon, and momentarily forgot that he had betrayed her…again. "So, you're really getting your vasectomy reversed?"

"Wouldn't you like me to?" Brock asked. "I know you love children, and you're not too old. I know how much it would mean to you if we could have a little one." He read the unsure expression on her face and his heart sank; he would rather have a child with her than anyone, but... "If you would rather I didn't-"

"No, I'd love it!" Reba assured him. "You're right, I love children…and I'm _definitely_ not too old," she added with a hint of dignity. "I'm just not sure…its what you want, too, right? Don't just try to make me happy – I'm only happy if you'd be."

Now his heart swelled like a balloon. "I would be!" he pulled her in for another hug. "So, it's settled. I'm just upset I couldn't tell you myself."

"About that…" Reba pulled away and looked him in the eye. "Did you really tell them everything about the shed?"

His stomach came to his throat, and his first thought was to defend himself. "No, I made sure I couldn't tell them too much- but I figured they may as well know sooner or later! And you told me this morning you would tell them sometime."

She sighed and glared a little. "You shouldn't have given in – or you should have at least told me. Now they pretty much know everything."

"Yeah, but…" Brock really didn't want to argue, and she was right; he should have consulted her, or none of this would be going on. He sighed, defeated. "You're right, I'm sorry. I really wish I could change that, I should have thought it out more."

Reba was impressed with the sincere apology, and hugged him again. "Now, how are we gonna get even with them?" she asked, suddenly excited and businesslike.

After dinner, when they were all sitting around with pie and ice cream, Reba asked, "Jake, is the Monopoly game still in the shed where you were playing with it earlier?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Go get it after this, I don't want a bunch of bugs getting into it."

"Um…" Jake slid down in his chair. "I can't."

"Jake, you got it out, you bring it back."

"He's scared of the dark," Kyra ratted him out.

"Am not!" he protested.

Sympathetic, Barbara Jean said, "I'll get it for you, Jakey, don't worry."

"Well, okay, but someone has to go with you – I've seen how you organize the money," Reba insisted.

Cheyenne raised her hand voluntarily. "I will, c'mon, let's go now, Barbara Jean." She dragged her step-mom outside, ignoring the latter's cry of, "Wait – my pie!"

Reba raised her eyebrows in the silence. "That was easier than I thought. C'mon, just in case they get away!" she directed them and everyone hurried out the door, just in time to see Cheyenne and Barbara Jean close the door to the shed.

Inside the shed, Cheyenne asked, "Okay, what was going on in there – Mom didn't bawl us out, and Dad is overly friendly."

"I don't know, okay, maybe they decided to let it go."

It was then they heard a latch being slid into place, and footsteps hurrying back across the lawn.

Cheyenne's mouth fell open indignantly. "Hey, that's not cool!" she shouted, banging on the door.

"Yeah, look at the mess they made last night!" Barbara Jean, totally oblivious to the fact that they were trapped. "I don't remember giving them a Monopoly game, do you?"

At the house, everyone was rather triumphant. "Nice work, Jake!" Reba slapped him a high five. "They're in there with nothing but Monopoly and junk food. I gave them all the chips in the house."

"Yeah, but now everyone thinks I'm scared of the dark," he pouted.

"Keep complaining. We can prove it." Kyra smiled wickedly then nudged Van, who was staring out the window a little sadly. "Van?"

"Did you really give them all the chips?" he whimpered.

Brock rolled his eyes. "Isn't it worth it?"

"For you, maybe, but for those of us who weren't trying to get revenge it's a little unfair!" he pouted. "I'm gonna go get the chips, be right back."

"Van, no, they could get out!" but he went right past his mother-in-law and outside. She glowered at him, muttering, "He is gonna _get it_."

"Allow me." Kyra followed Van outside, and came back a few moments later.

Reba raised her eyebrows. "Where's Van?"

"The shed, with the rest of the hostages."

"You locked him in there?" Kyra nodded. Reba beamed proudly. "That's my girl!"

"Thanks. Now I think I'll go torture them with my guitar." She disappeared toward the living room.

Jake looked from one parent to another. "Are you two gonna get all mushy and cuddly now?"

His parents had to laugh, and his father answered, "Yes, we are."

"Whoa, is it seven thirty? It's WAY past my bedtime!" Jake exclaimed, and scrambled out of the room.

Enjoying a chuckle, Reba turned and threw her arms around Brock. Their lips were about to touch when they heard, "Whoa, hold it until I'm out of here!" and turned to see Kyra with her guitar in hand, hurrying out the door. They watched as she leaned against the shed, got situated, and started strumming.

"Let's see, what's Cheyenne's FAVORITE song?" she said loudly, still strumming.

"Kyra, don't you dare!" they heard her sister attempt to sound threatening.

Kyra let out a laugh, similar to her mother's signature one, then strummed a little faster. "_This was never the way I planned, not my intention…"_

"Oh, c'mon, no!" Cheyenne yelled.

"I wanna hear it!" Van egged her on.

"Cheyenne, it's your turn, will you please take your hands off your ears and roll the dice?"

"_I kissed a girl, and I liked it…"_

"KEEER-UH!!"

"Cheyenne, if you don't go now, I get the car!" Van threatened. "And YOU get the iron."

"…_I hope my boyfriend don't mind it…"_

Reba closed the backdoor on the crazy family and sighed, pulling Brock by the waist to walk with her to the living room.

"I gotta admit, that was a good plan. But seriously, that song?"

"She learned it just to annoy Cheyenne." Reba rolled her eyes. They sat down, enjoying the silence and each others company. Brock stroked her arm from around her shoulder, and she drew little circles on his knee.

"What a day," Reba finally sighed. "Can you believe that twenty-four hours ago it was you and me in that shed?"

"And twenty-five hours ago you weren't talking to me," Brock added. "You know, when they get out of there we should thank them for doing that for us."

Reba shrugged. "Maybe. After they apologize."

"Yeah, it'll be nice to talk to them next winter," he said sarcastically.

"Look, let's not worry about them now, they'll be fine. They're playing Monopoly and pigging out, what are they missing?"

"This." Brock pulled her in for a passionate kiss, setting off uncontrollable wildfire. She pulled him by the collar a little closer; why had she just pecked him before? This kind of kiss was the only one she'd settle for now. Because she could; Reba knew that Brock would never leave her. It was completely obvious now – they could try to stop loving each other as much as they wanted, but it wouldn't change anything. Every kiss would set off those fireworks, every day they would save each other.

Outside, Kyra had stopped annoying Cheyenne and, thinking about the family she would soon have back, found her eyes a little misty. She couldn't believe how screwy things could be, but still be good. She knew it couldn't happen to any other family; everything they'd gone through had just made this easier. She started strumming a sweeter song.

_There's nothing I could say to you  
__Nothing I could ever do  
__To make you see  
__What you mean to me  
__All the pain, the tears I cried  
__Still you never said goodbye  
__And now I know  
__How far you'd go  
__I know I let you down  
__But its not like that now  
__This time I'll never let you go  
_

_I will be all that you want  
__And get myself together  
__Because you from falling apart  
__All my life  
__I'll be with you forever  
__To get you through the day  
__And make everything okay  
_

_I thought that I had everything  
__I didn't know what life could bring  
__But know I see honestly  
__You're the one thing I got right  
__The only one I let inside  
__Now I can breath  
__Cause you're here with me  
__And if I let you down  
__I'll turn it all around  
__Cause I would never let you go_

_I will be, all that you want  
And get myself together  
Cause you keep me from falling apart  
All my life,_

_I'll be with you forever  
To get you through the day  
And make everything okay_

_Cause without you I can't sleep  
I'm not gonna ever, ever let you leave  
You're all I've got, you're all I want  
Yeah_

_And without you I don't know what I'd do  
I can never, ever live a day without you  
Here with me, do you see,  
You're all I need_

_I will be all that you want  
__And get myself together  
__Cause you keep me from falling apart  
__All my life  
__I'll be with you forever  
__To get you through the day  
__And make everything okay"_

Upon finishing the song, she heard sniffs coming from inside, then Cheyenne snapping:

"Van, are you crying?"

"I am NOT crying!"

Shaking her head, with a smile, Kyra walked inside. She still had something to say to her parents, and it wouldn't be easy. She supposed the quicker the better.

"Hey, Mom? Dad?" she said, entering the living room. Luckily, they had broken apart when they heard her come in, so there was no need for her to shield her eyes.

"Yeah, sweetie?"

Kyra took a deep breath. She knew this would be a blow to them, but that it was the right thing to do. She'd feel a hell of a lot better after it was said. "I've made my decision as to where I'm going to live."

Reba was suspicious. "Wait – honey, your father and I are getting back together, you'll just live here again."

"That's what I thought at first, too," Kyra admitted, then stared at her knees. "Until she was crying."

Reba understood perfectly who Kyra was talking about, and bit her lip nervously. Brock, being a man, asked, "Whose crying?"

Kyra sighed and faced them again. "I know this has been hard on Barbara Jean. She doesn't love you, Dad, but this makes her feel out of the family. She's scared to death – when she came up and told me you were divorced, she told me that she was afraid that she'd suddenly lose all of us. Then…she cried. Not that freaky hyperventilating cry – that one where you're trying not to but you can't help it."

Reba and Brock exchanged a slightly ashamed look. They'd acted so happy and in love, right in front of Barbara Jean, thinking that she was perfectly fine. Just like Reba had acted like she wasn't hurt, maybe Barbara Jean was, too.

"Like I said, she doesn't love Dad or anything, but this is…really hard, and…to a point, painful. I'd like to be there for her, so I want to stay with her," Kyra finished. She had that glint in her eye that meant nothing could change her mind; both Reba and Brock recognized it, and where she got it from. Her face was set, as was her mind. For once, a sensitive issue was hitting home with Kyra.

"What do you think?" Reba finally asked Brock, turning to face him. He sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"I guess…if you think that's the right thing to do, you should do it." He placed a hand on his daughters knee. "But I'm really going to miss you, honey."

She nodded, staring back at her knees. "I do think it's the right thing to do. But I'm going to be around as much as I possibly can…she's not moving, or anything, so I'll always be close by."

Reba nodded, a lump in her throat preventing much speech. On one hand she was glad that her daughters conscience was so alert and caring; on the other hand she was so set on having her daughter back and had to fight a little bit. "Couldn't you just…visit her a lot?"

"Mom, that wouldn't be a very consistent setting for her, and she would still be alone most of the time."

Reba sighed. "All right, you win. Go ahead."

Kyra smiled. "Good. Thank you." She stood and kissed them both on the head. "Think I'll go practice at home – see you." She disappeared out the door, leaving Reba and Brock in silence again, but a much more intense one.

"You know," Brock finally broke it. "I really will miss her, but after all that's happened I'm just so glad that Barbara Jean's not gonna be alone."

Reba nodded in agreement. "I am, too. I can't believe it, though…Brock, will Kyra ever move back?"

"You really miss her, huh?" Reba nodded. "Well, I know she missed you – _misses _you. She was always talking about you when I lived there."

"Really?"

"Sure, it was mostly complaining, but you were very important to her. You are. As long as that's true than you two will always be close. And one day, you know, when Barbara Jean gets remarried she'll want to move back. And maybe by then we'll have a new child."

Reba smiled and cuddled against his chest again. "I love you, Brock."

He kissed her temple. "I love you."

_And if I let you down_

_I'll turn it all around_

_Cause I would never let you go_

**The End**

**Well, guess that's all, folks!! I really hope you enjoyed it. If the title doesn't make sense yet, well I had been thinking of putting that line in somewhere but decided it would be too cheesy. But its a signature phrase for Reba so I decided the title stays. This one took a long time, so thanks to everyone who stuck with me and reviewed! Again, thanks to coffeeiv for ideas on this and the last chapter and stay tuned for possibly a sequel, everyone!**

**Songs: I Kissed a Girl - Katey Perry  
I Will Be - Avril Lavigne**


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